For Her part, it was a busy day enough and did not lag. She did her shopping and called on a town friend or two. In the late afternoon she ran in to several art-stores where pictures were on exhibition. It was at the last of these places that she chanced to meet a woman who was a neighbor of hers in the suburbs.
“Why, Mrs. Cody!” the neighbor cried. “How delightful! You’ve come in to see Irving, too?”
“No,” with distinct regret answered Murray’s mother, “but I wish I had! I’m only in for a little shopping.”
“Not going to stay! Why, it will be wicked to go back to-night—unless, of course, you’ve seen him in Robespierre.”
“I haven’t. Cicely Howe has been teasing me to stop over and go with her. It’s a ‘sure-enough’ temptation, as Fred says. Fred’s away, so that part’s all right. Of course there’s Murray, but there’s also Sheelah—” She was talking more to herself now than to the neighbor. The temptation had taken a sudden and striking hold upon her. It was the chance of a lifetime. She really ought—
“I guess you’ll stop over!” laughed the neighbor. “I know the signs.”
“I’ll telephone to Sheelah,” Murray’s mother decided, aloud, “then I’ll run along back to Cicely’s. I’ve always wanted to see Irving in that play.”
But it was seven o’clock before she telephoned. She was to have been at home at half-past seven.
“That you, Sheelah? I’m not coming out to-night—not until morning. I’m going to the theatre. Tell Murray I’ll bring him a present. Put an extra blanket over him if it comes up chilly.”
She did not hang up the receiver at once, holding it absently at her ear while she considered if she ought to say anything else to Sheelah. Hence she heard distinctly an indignant exclamation.