wanted that fat Olive to come, when Olive lives here anyhow."
Pearl's limpid gray eyes gazed at her sympathetically. It was her nature to be sympathetic, and presently Dolly was telling her how she had, first met Allen, how he had danced and how wonderfully their steps went together. It seemed as if she had remembered every syllable that had ever fallen from his lips, and loved to repeat them, though they were of a conspicuously commonplace character. Then she confided a secret--he had asked himself. She would never have dared to ask him.
"Dared!" said Pearl, every inch the feminist.
"Oh, well," Dolly retreated rapidly, "this house is so full of uninteresting children like Antonia and Durland--under your feet all day long; but when Allen said himself, telling how he didn't want to go to the Temples, 'Why don't you ask me?'----"
Her voice softened over the remembered tones; of course she had asked him.
Pearl's heart sank at this news. She wondered if she were vain to attach a dread significance to his initiative. She remembered that peculiar fierce stare from those pale eyes. Well, she wouldn't speak to him--that was all there was to that.
Presently she left Dolly and went to knock on Antonia's door, which was suspiciously shut; usually Antonia lived and dressed open to corridors.