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It would have been easier, of course, if she'd played fair with us at
the start ..."
"She did play fair," he interrupted. "She offered to tell me what she
was going to do. I wouldn't let her."
Harriet's only commentary on this was a faint shrug.
"Anyhow," she went on, "the point is that once we begin pretending,
everybody else will have to pretend to believe us. Of course the thing
to do is to get her out of that horrible place as soon as we can. And I
suppose the best way of doing it, will be to get her into something
else--take her down to New York and work her into a small part in some
good company. Almost anything, if it came to that, as long as it wasn't
music. Oh, and have her use her own name, and let us make as much of it
as we can. Face it out. Pretend we like it. I don't say it's ideal, but
it's better than this."
"Her own name!" he echoed blankly. "Do you mean she made one up?"
Harriet nodded. "Constance mentioned it," she said, "but that was before
I knew what she was talking about.


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