"You won’t be home to lunch, then, I suppose?" "But you shan’t be alone!" cried Mrs. Russell brightly. "I’ve got Miss Kennedy here--the daughter of an old, old friend of mine!" And then began a new series of the most preposterous lies, flowing in a bland, untroubled stream. She said that Angelica’s father was a clergyman living in the country, and that Angelica was going to be married, and that her mother had sent her to stop with Mrs. Russell while she bought her trousseau. She added a great deal of the grossest flattery about Polly’s superior taste. "I advise you to consult her in everything!" she ended, turning to the astounded Angelica. "Now, then, I’ve got to fly. You two must have a nice, comfy chat!" And she whimpered to Angelica as she went out: "Just till she gets used to you, you know. Then we can tell her!" II Polly lay back on her pillows, looking at Angelica. She didn’t ask her to sit down. Angelica returned her gaze resentfully and miserably, ashamed of her preposterous position, but quite helpless, having no idea how to extricate herself. She didn’t feel able to say bluntly that Mrs. Russell’s story was a lie, although she could see that Polly was suspicious--more than suspicious--and she was certain that she could not sustain any sort of examination. "When did you come?" inquired Polly. "Last night." "Alone?" "No; she brought me." "Mrs. Russell, you mean? And she says she was a school friend of your mother’s. I wonder what school!" "I don’t know." "Does she often visit your mother?" "No." "Then, as a matter of fact, you don’t know her very well?" "Never saw her till the day before yesterday." Polly smiled. "Aren’t you afraid you’ll feel rather strange here? How long do you expect to stay?" "I don’t know." "You don’t know? I’ve forgotten--where did Mrs. Russell say you lived?" "In New York." "That’s odd--very odd! I certainly understood her to say you lived in the country." Angelica was dumb. "Where in New York? I know the city so well." "At the Ritz," said Angelica boldly. She was quite desperate now. She was sure that Polly saw through her, and that it was only a matter of time before she was shamefully exposed. "At the Ritz!" exclaimed Polly. Their eyes met in a long and hostile look. "Yes, at the Ritz," Angelica repeated. "Why do you tell me that?" asked Polly quietly. Angelica’s swarthy face grew scarlet. "You needn’t think this was my idea!" she cried. "I don’t try to pass myself off as--some one different. She hired me, and I told her all about myself. My mother’s a janitress, and I worked in a factory!" Polly’s face had flushed, too. "What was the idea in trying to make you my companion?" she asked. "Did Mrs. Russell imagine I shouldn’t know the difference? Or perhaps she thought any one was good enough for me!" Angelica was a hardy young devil, but this was too much even for her. "I’m not--just any one," she muttered, with a quivering lip. "I’m not--dirt. I’m----”