"Good night, Julie, good night," she whispered, hurriedly.
"Good night," answered she; "I fear I have interrupted—I mean, startled you."
"Good night, good night," repeated Lucille.
As Julie retreated across the lobby, she was overtaken by Lucille, who placed her hand upon her shoulder.
"Julie, will you hate me if I tell you all?" she said, in great agitation, as she hurried with her into her apartment.
"Hate you, Lucille! How could I hate my dear friend and companion?"
"Friend, O yes, friend; what a friend I have proved to you!"
"Come, come, you must not let yourself be excited; you know you are my friend, my only friend and confidante, and you know I love you."
Lucille covered her face with her hands and sobbed or shuddered violently. Julie embraced and kissed her tenderly; but, in the midst of these caresses, her unhappy friend threw her arms about her neck, and, looking earnestly in her face for a few seconds, drew her passionately to her heart and kissed her, murmuring as she did so—
"No, no; she never could forgive me."