"Well, I suppose she does," replied Judy reluctantly. "Katherine has more surface brightness, but of course she's superficial, that is, compared with her sister." "Edith is the brightest," said Judy. "Mabel Hinton is all right, but she does dress so atrociously. And those glasses! Can you imagine how she can wear them?" Molly felt suddenly hot. She flung the comfort off and sat up impatiently. "I should think Judy would have sense enough to see she's being made to discuss every friend she has," she thought. "The Intruder" had now commenced on pretty Jessie Lynch. "Awfully jolly to have so many beaux. Most men-crazy girls have none," she was saying, when Molly marched into the room. She had not decided what she was going to say, but she intended to say something. "How red your face is, Molly, dear," observed Judy carelessly. "And how fortunate that it's so seldom that way," went on the imperturbable Miss Windsor. "Red faces are not becoming to red heads, that is, generally speaking, but your skin is such an exquisite texture, Miss Brown, that it doesn't matter whether it's red or white. Did you see where a girl had written to a beauty editor and asked for a cure for blushing? The editor told her that age was the only cure. Sometimes, however, one gets very good suggestions off those pages, good hygienic suggestions, I mean." And so Adele carried the conversation along at such a swift pace that Molly did not have the chance to say what she had intended. She had always regarded that kind of talk with supreme contempt: praise that tapered into a sting. "It would have been more honest to have given the sting without the praise," she thought, "and less hypocritical and censorious." It was Adele's trick to make you agree with her, and if you did, lead you on to further and more dangerous ground, until you suddenly felt yourself placed in the awkward position of saying something unkind without having intended it. It was strange that Judy was so blind to this trait of Adele's. But then Adele was very attractive. There was a kind of abandon about her that suited Judy's style. They had a great many tastes in common. Adele was very talented and the two girls often went off on Saturday afternoon sketching expeditions together. "Nance, I'm ashamed of myself for thinking such things," whispered Molly, on the way down to supper, "but there is something almost Mephistophelean about Adele Windsor." "She-devil, you mean," broke in Nance bluntly. Molly laughed. "Mephistophelean was more high sounding. Besides she's just like Mephistopheles in 'Faust.' She doesn't speak right out, only whispers and suggests. Innuendo is the word, isn't it? Sometimes I'm really frightened for Judy." "She is awfully crushed, but she'll wake up soon enough. She always does," answered Nance carelessly.