“I know, Billy, but there is a certain standard to be maintained—”
“We, the people of the United States—and tiddle tya—tya—tya! Why, everybody’s doing it! The women—bless ‘em!—too. I just left your wife at a table with my wife, and the pile of chips between ‘em would make some men’s card-rooms hide their diminished walls!”
“That so? You saw my wife this evening? Where?”
“As if you didn’t know! But, good heavens! perhaps you didn’t! Have I been indiscreet?”
“Not at all. At Mrs. Desternay’s, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but you gave me a jolt. I was afraid I’d peached.”
“Not at all. They’re friends.”
“Well, between you and me, they oughtn’t to be. I let Gladys go, under protest—I left her there myself—but it’s never again for her! I shall tell her so to-night.”
Embury changed the subject and by using all his self-control gave no hint of his wrath. So Eunice had gone after all! After his expressly forbidding it! It was almost unbelievable!
And within an hour of his receiving information, Sanford Embury, in his own car, stopped at the Desternay house.