"You can't understand!" Her voice was trembling with passion. "It's exactly because I signed that paper and promised to be faithful to my friends and to speak the truth, that I'm in all this trouble. No, I tell you I won't explain! If you think so badly of me that you won't believe my word, it's no use my speaking to you. Oh! I hate everybody, and I hate everything! I wish I could go home!"
"Better stay and clear things up!" said Veronica. "If I could do anything for you, I would."
"Would you?" asked Raymonde with a flash of hope. "Could you possibly get a letter posted for me?"
"I daren't!" she said briefly. "Miss Beasley trusted me to bring up your tea, and I mustn't forget I'm a monitress. I shall have to tell her that I've been speaking to you. I ought to go now. Good-bye!"
Raymonde drank her tea, but left the bread and butter untouched. She was not hungry, and her head ached. The whole of her gay, careless world seemed to have crumbled to ashes. She wondered what her chums were thinking of her. Did they, like Veronica, mistrust her conduct? She knew that her behaviour was extraordinary. A sense of utter desolation swept over her, and, pushing aside the tea things, she leaned her arms on the table, with her hot face pressed against them.
From this despairing attitude she was aroused by Miss Gibbs, who five minutes later came to fetch the tray.
"Don't give way, Raymonde!" said the mistress, laying quite a kindly hand on the girl's shoulder. "There's to be proper enquiry into this matter to-morrow, and I, for one, trust you'll be able to clear yourself. Keep your self-control, and be prepared to answer any questions that are put to you then. Remember there's nothing like courage and speaking the truth."
[Illustration: "THE DOOR OPENED WITH A FORCIBLE JERK, AND A STRANGER ENTERED"]
Raymonde raised herself slowly, hesitated for a moment, then fumbled in her pocket.
"Miss Gibbs," she faltered, "I'd love to tell you everything, but I can't. I wonder if you'd trust me enough to send off this letter without opening it, or asking me what I've written in it?"
The mistress took the envelope and examined it. It was addressed to Miss V. Chalmers, Haversedge Manor, near Byfield. She looked into Raymonde's eyes as if she would read her very soul. Her pupil bore the scrutiny without flinching.