“Yes, you know what I mean,” Peggy said. “It’s time to be honest about yourself—and honest with yourself. You can’t go on pretending to be what you’re not. I’m sorry, Paula, but I know all about you. I know who you are, and who your parents are, and I know that they think you’re in Europe. I’ve ... I’ve been snooping.”
“Have you talked to them?” Paula asked in a quavery voice. “Do they know where I am?”
“Nobody has talked to them,” Peggy assured her. “I think you ought to do that yourself.”
“Thank goodness!” Paula breathed. “But why...?”
“Why did I poke into your affairs?” Peggy supplied. “Because I was sure that you weren’t telling me the truth about yourself, and I was sure that your parents didn’t know where you were and that they were probably worried sick, whoever they were. I wanted to find out, so that I could help you. You must believe that. I didn’t do it out of personal curiosity, Paula, but just to help you.”
“I believe that, Peggy,” Paula said. “But really, it wasn’t necessary. My parents think I’m all right. They believe I’m in Europe, and they get letters from me, and—”
“No, they don’t,” Peggy interrupted. “They haven’t received a letter in almost a month.”
“Oh, no!” Paula gasped. “I was afraid of that! But how do you know, if you haven’t spoken to them?”
“Don’t bother about that now,” Peggy said. “I think the best thing is for you to start at the beginning and tell me the whole story. Then we can put the pieces together.”
Paula nodded in silent agreement, then drew a deep breath and started.