“That’s what Jimmy said,” murmured the girl in a choking voice.
The great restaurant, with its chattering shoppers, faded away. They two seemed quite alone. Mrs. Larry reached out a warm impulsive hand and gripped Claire’s fingers, cold even through her heavy gloves.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Telling doesn’t help.”
“Oh, yes, it does, my dear. Do you suppose that if I had known, I would have dragged you from one sale to another, boring you with such unimportant details as trimmings and findings? No, indeedy! We’d have gone home to my apartment and talked about Jimmy, and cuddled the baby.”
Claire covered her eyes quickly with a shaking hand.
“Oh, I couldn’t have stood that. This has been much better. It’s helped me to forget for a little while.”
Mrs. Larry shook her head.
“Oh, no, it hasn’t. You’re not the kind to forget. You’re too sweet and womanly and loyal, and you’re going to tell me what happened,—why you sent Jimmy away.”
“Because I love him too well to marry him.”