"
"_Isn't_ it good to be alive!--if you've got plenty," exclaimed
Etta. "I never knew before. _This_ is the dream, Lorna--and I
think I'll kill myself if I have to wake."
On Saturday afternoon the four were in one of the rooms
discussing where the farewell dinner should be held and what
they would eat and drink. Etta called Susan into the other room
and shut the door between.
"Fatty wants me to go along with him and live in Detroit," said
she, blurting it out as if confessing a crime.
"Isn't that splendid!" cried Susan, kissing her. "I thought he
would. He fell in love with you at first sight."
"That's what he says. But, Lorna--I--I don't know _what_ to do!"
"_Do_? Why, go. What else is there? Go, of course."
"Oh, no, Lorna," protested Etta. "I couldn't leave you. I
couldn't get along without you."
"But you must go. Don't you love him?"
Etta began to weep. "That's the worst of it. I do love him so!
And I think he loves me--and might marry me and make me a good
woman again. . . . You mustn't ever tell John or anybody about
that--that dreadful man I went with--will you, dear?"
"What do you take me for?" said Susan.
"I've told Fatty I was a good girl until I met him. You haven't
told John about yourself?" Susan shook her head.
"I suppose not. You're so secretive. You really think I ought to go?"
"I know it."
Etta was offended by Susan's positive, practical tone.
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