She made a step forward. He rushed at her, snatched the letter out of her hand, and went to the window with it.
She went into her own room, shut the door, and threw herself on the bed, her whole frame shaking with suppressed laughter.
* * * * *
Bruce, alone, with trembling fingers tore open the envelope. Never in his life had he been opposed by Edith before in this way. He read these words in stereotyped writing:
'Van will call on receipt of post-card. The Lavender Laundry hopes that you will give them a trial, as their terms are extremely mod—'
Bruce rushed to the door and called out:
'Edith! Sorry! Edie, I say, I'm sorry. Come back.'
There was no answer.
He pushed the letter under the door of her room, and said through the keyhole:
'Edith, look here, I'm just going for a little walk. I'll be back to dinner. Don't be angry.'