Where do you come from? Who are you--really?"
Ida May stared, flaccid, helpless. For the time being all her rage,
her rudeness, her amazement, even, drained out of her. For this
impostor to face her down in this way; for her to claim Ida May's
name and identity with such utter calm--such sangfroid; for Sheila
to stand before her and deliberately declare that what Ida May had
known to be her own all her life long--her name and distinctive
character--was actually another's--all this was so monstrous a thing
that Ida May was stunned.
Suppose--suppose something had really happened to her mind? People
did go mad, Ida May had heard. She had rather a vague idea as to
what insanity was like, but she felt her mind slipping.
The sure and unafraid expression of the other girl's countenance
gave Ida May no help at all. She was sure that her opponent had not
lost her mind. She was just a wicked, bad, horrid girl who had
somehow got something that belonged to Ida May Bostwick, and meant
to keep it if she could.
Self-pity filled the visitor's mind in place of the fury she had
expended in her first outburst. She dared not attack the other with
tooth and nail, for she saw now that this girl was as much her
superior in physical strength as she was in strength of character.
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