"You—you're reading a letter—I interrupted you?"
"The letter's of no importance," said Roger, throwing it upon the desk. "It's only from John Heron to tell me that he and his wife won't be able to come and see us at Newport. One would suppose by his tone that he was offended. Probably Mrs. Heron expected you to gush over the wedding present, and has put him up to snubbing me because you didn't."
"You asked the Herons to visit us? I—didn't know——"
"I did ask them," Roger cut her short. "I heard they were coming East."
"Oh, Roger, I couldn't have met them! If they'd accepted I should have had to be ill, or—or go away!" Beverley exclaimed on one of her impulses, which instantly she appeared to regret. "I'm glad you don't like Mr. Heron's letter, because—you'll never ask them again! I haven't done anything to annoy you, have I?"
"You know best whether you have or not."
"What do you mean?"
"Is it necessary to ask? I came home intending not to question you. But I must make one comment: you're surprised that I invite a friend to visit us without consulting you. That seems inconsistent with what you've done. I've read the evening paper, and——"
"Oh, Roger! It's in the paper ... about that poor child and me?"
"Naturally! You and I aren't nonentities."