I described my new sister-in-law as I remembered her, going on to say: “I suppose you gave Jack a good time. Did you—did you take him about anywhere?”
“Let me see. I took him to—where was it? I took him to the Wynfords’—and—and—oh, yes!—to the Barrys’. And it’s too funny! I really think Regina fell in love with him at first sight. For a month or two she questioned me about him every time we met. Then all of a sudden she stopped. If she was struck by the thunderbolt, as the French put it—well, all I can say is that it serves her right.”
“Serves her right—what for?”
“Oh, the way she’s carried on. It’s disgraceful. Do you know her? Her father is an architect, like you.”
Annette’s round, dusky face, which had no beauty but a quick, dimpling play of expression, was one that easily betrayed her ruling passion of curiosity. It was now so alight with anticipation that I tried to be more than ever casual.
“I’ve—I’ve just met her.”
“Where?”
“Once at the memorial, when she came with Mrs. Grace; and a few nights ago I dined with her at the Coningsbys’.”
“I wonder she didn’t take you for Jack.”
To this I was not obliged to make a response for the reason that, the man having arrived with the tea, Annette had to give her attention to the placing of the tray.