CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Beatrix raised her eyes from her letters. "Mother wants us to come to dinner, to-night, Sidney."
"But you are scheduled for something else; aren't you?" he answered, without looking up from his paper.
"For nothing that I can't break. There are some teas and the theatre. I had thought I might have to hurry our dinner, to get through in time. What if we give up the theatre? The Andersons won't mind, if we telephone them so early."
"Just as well," he responded indifferently, as he turned his paper inside out and ran his eye down the columns.
"Then shall I telephone mother that we will be there?"
"You can go, Beatrix. I sha'n't be able to be there."
"Why not, Sidney?"
"Because Dudley is giving a dinner at the club, to-night, and I am booked for that."