"He's been heard from, and is coming HERE!"

"Who?"

A sickening sense that her old confidante had already lost touch with
her--they had been separated for nearly two weeks--might have passed
through Susy's mind.

"Who?" she repeated, with a vicious shake of Mary's arm, "why, Clarence
Brant, of course."

"No!" said Mary, vaguely.

Nevertheless, Susy went on rapidly, as if to neutralize the effect of
her comrade's vacuity.

"You never could have imagined it! Never! Even I, when mother told me, I
thought I should have fainted, and ALL would have been revealed!"

"But," hesitated the still wondering confidante, "I thought that was all
over long ago. You haven't seen him nor heard from him since that day
you met accidentally at Santa Clara, two years ago, have you?"

Susy's eyes shot a blue ray of dark but unutterable significance into
Mary's, and then were carefully averted. Mary Rogers, although perfectly
satisfied that Susy had never seen Clarence since, nevertheless
instantly accepted and was even thrilled with this artful suggestion
of a clandestine correspondence. Such was the simple faith of youthful
friendship.