Miss Bartlett burst into self-accusations and regrets.

“What is to be done now? Can you tell me?”

“Oh, Lucy — I shall never forgive myself, never to my dying day. Fancy if your prospects — ”

“I know,” said Lucy, wincing at the word. “I see now why you wanted me to tell Cecil, and what you meant by 'some other source.' You knew that you had told Miss Lavish, and that she was not reliable.

It was Miss Bartlett's turn to wince. “However,” said the girl, despising her cousin's shiftiness, “What's done's done. You have put me in a most awkward position. How am I to get out of it?”

Miss Bartlett could not think.