Wallie did not contradict her.
Strictly, Mrs. Stott did not belong in the group in which she was seated. She had been coming to The Colonial only eleven years, so really, she should have been on the other side of the veranda, but Mrs. Stott had such an insidious way of getting where and what she wanted that she was "one of them" almost before they knew it.
Mr. Stott was a rising young attorney of forty-eight, and it was anticipated that he would one day be a leading trial lawyer because of his aggressiveness.
Wallie's voice took on a sympathetic tone. He stopped in front of a chair where a very thin young lady was reclining languidly.
"How's the bad heart to-day, Miss Eyester?"
"About as usual, Wallie, thank you," she replied, gratefully.
"Your lips have more colour."
Miss Eyester opened a handbag and, taking out a small, round mirror which she carried for the purpose, inspected her lips critically.
"It does seem so," she admitted. "If I can just keep from getting excited."
"I can't imagine a better place than The Colonial." The reply contained a grain of irony.