“Oh dear,” Peggy said unhappily. “I know you’re right, but I’ve been sort of trying to put it off. I just hate to be the one to tell her that we’ve been spying on her.”
“I know how you feel, Peggy,” May Berriman said, managing to sound gentle and stern at the same time, “but after all, you—”
“I know, May,” Peggy interrupted. “You don’t have to tell me. I started the whole thing, and it’s up to me to finish it. Besides, I’ve formed a closer friendship with Paula than any of the rest of you. You’re right. I’d better do it, and I’d better do it right away.”
As she started from the room, Amy stood up to follow. “Peggy,” she called, “I’m coming, too.”
“No, Amy,” Peggy said. “It’s good of you, but I think I’d better do it alone. It may be harder for me that way, but it will be easier for Paula. I’ll meet you all down at the theater as soon as I can get there.”
With a distracted wave of her hand, she left.
On the way to Paula’s apartment, she rehearsed several possible opening phrases, several tactful approaches to the problem of telling her friend that she knew her identity. Somehow, nothing seemed quite right, and when she finally stepped out of the little elevator and knocked on Paula’s door, her mind was blank. Paula greeted her with a smile.
“Peggy! What a nice surprise! I was just thinking of calling you up. I thought we might be able to have dinner together before going down to the theater tonight.”
“I’m glad I caught you before you went out,” Peggy said. “Paula. Sit down, will you? I—I want to talk to you. You see, this isn’t exactly a—well—a social visit, although it is a friendly one. I’m coming to you as a friend, to ask you to be honest with me.”
“Honest? Why, Peggy, I....” Paula’s voice trailed off, and she became pale and still.