"To what," she demanded mockingly, "am I to attribute the honor of this visit?" but she seized Elfrida lightly and kissed her on both cheeks before it was possible for her to reply.
The girl disengaged herself gently. "Oh I have come, like the rest, to lay my homage at your feet," she said, with a little smile that put spaces between them. "You did not expect me to deny myself that pleasure?"
"Don't be absurd, Frida. When did you come back to town?"
"When did I come back?" Elfrida repeated slowly, watching for the effect of her words. "On the first, I think it was."
"And this is the tenth!" Janet exclaimed; adding helplessly,
"You are an enigma! Why didn't you let me know?"
"How could I suppose that you would care to know anything just now—except what the papers tell you."
Janet regarded her silently, saying nothing. Under her look Elfrida's expression changed a little, grew uncomfortable. The elder girl felt the chill, the seriousness with which she received the card upstairs, return upon her suddenly, and she became aware that she could not, with self-respect, fight it any longer.
"If you thought that," she said gravely, "it was a curious thing to think. But I believe I am indebted to you for one of the pleasantest things the papers have been telling me," she went on, with constraint. "It was very kind—much too kind. Thank you very much."
Elfrida looked up, half frightened at the revulsion of her tone. "But—but your book is delightful. I was no more charmed than everybody must be. And it has made a tremendous hit, hasn't it?"
"Thanks, I believe it is doing a fair amount of credit to its publishers. They are very pushing people."