“Amy? Greta? What do you think?” May Berriman pursued.
The girls shook their heads and looked at each other.
“It seems to me,” the old actress said with slow dignity, “that Peggy made her decision some days ago, even before the whole story was known.”
“What do you mean?” Peggy asked.
“I mean that I remember you saying that people were more important than plays. And that, I presume, goes for careers, too. People, and people’s feelings, are the most important thing in the world. I think that you’ve already decided to call Paula’s parents.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Peggy answered. “Even though I agree that people and their feelings are the most important thing. You see, I have to consider Paula’s feelings, too, don’t I?”
“No,” May Berriman said firmly. “She’s been considering her own feelings long enough, and all of you have done nothing but help her to continue her foolishness. Maybe it’s because of my age, but I can’t consider her feelings anywhere near as important as the feelings of her parents. They haven’t heard from her for a month. The checks they sent haven’t been cashed. They probably are frightened to death, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had the police forces in half the countries of Europe searching for Paula. I think it’s time somebody put a stop to it.”
The girls considered what May had said, and silently sipped their chocolate. Nobody cared to say anything, Amy and Greta each having decided individually that the final decision must come from Peggy.
It was a long time until the silence was broken.
“All right, May,” Peggy said. “I can’t argue with you, because I know you’re right. There’s nothing to do but call them, and now’s as good a time as any.”