CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
A week after the concert Catherine gave up hope for Poloff. Mrs. Dalton did not like him. Some reason, connected with an absconding Russian maid who had once stolen some jewelry, had cut all Russians from her interest. She was very gracious about it and very obstinate.
"But Tony's another matter. She's sickening about Tony. If I didn't really love him she would make me hate him. Then, why can't she come out and say what she intends to do? How do I know she won't go off to Europe or Asia or Africa for the summer, and every week makes a difference to Tony."
"Why don't you ring her up?" Jean advised. "She's already spoken about it you say, it wouldn't be like attacking her from the blue. It would be easy to make a reasonable excuse."
"Would it?" Catherine asked in such a suddenly changed tone, that Nan and Gerte as well as Jean stopped eating and stared. Jean flushed, but Catherine had not been herself since the concert and now her sharp face looked almost drawn and her lips were a tight line.
"I think so. I'll do it, if you like, drop the seed anyhow. I used to have to do a lot of indirect managing of her in the old days."
"Thank you," Catherine said after a pause, "but this is my affair. You don't love Tony and I do."
Catherine did not wait for dessert and left the table. As soon as the door closed, Gerte burst out:
"What in the world is the matter with Catherine? She's been like a loaded pistol ever since the concert and now she's just about ready to go off."
"She's tired out," Nan said shortly and then began, in a most unusual fashion for Nan, to talk about her work. Neither Jean nor Gerte paid much attention, but it bridged the gap, and Jean felt, that for some reason, this was all Nan wanted it to do.