l the sudden disturbing
flush that rose to her face. She had intended telling Constance that
very night of the remark that Miss Archer had made in Mary's presence
about their freshman year. She had felt dimly that, perhaps, Mary ought
to be put in possession of the story, although she had not the remotest
suspicion of the jealousy that was already warping her chum's thoughts.
Her one idea had been to answer all her questions as freely as she had
done in the past. She intended to put the matter to Constance in this
light. But now Constance had forestalled her and was asking her to be
silent on the very matters she wished to impart to Mary.

"It isn't as though it is something which Mary ought to know," continued
Constance, quite unaware of Marjorie's inward agitation. "It wouldn't
make her happier to learn it and--and--she might not think so well of
me. I wish her to like me, Marjorie, just because she is your dearest
friend. Don't you think I am right about it? You wouldn't care to have
even the friend of your best friend know all the little intimate details
of your life. Now, would you?" Constance slipped to her knees beside
Marjorie, one arm across her shoulder, and regarded her with pleading
eyes.

Marjorie stared thoughtfully into the earnest face of the girl at her
side. What should she say? If she told Constance that Mary had twice
asked questions regarding her affairs, Constance might think Mary unduly
curious. Perhaps, after all, silence was wisest. Mary might forget all
about it, and, in any case, she was far too sensible to feel hurt or
indignant because she, Marjorie, was not free to tell her of the
private affairs of another.

"Promise me, Marjorie, that you won't say anything," urged Constance.
Her natural reticence made her dread taking even Mary into confidence
regarding herself.

"I promise, Connie," said Marjorie with a half sigh. "There, I guess
that flounce will stay in place. I've sewed it over and over."

The two girls returned to the dance floor arm in arm. Mary Raymond's
blue eyes were turned on them resentfully as they entered the room. They
had been having a talk together, and hadn't asked her to join them. Then
her face cleared. She thought she knew what that talk was about.
Marjorie had been asking Constance's permission to tell her everything.
She would hear the great secret on the way home, no doubt. Her spirits
rose at the prospect of the comfy chat they would have in the automobile
a