The secretary shook his head as he departed on his errand. To postpone luncheon—why, it was nearly as unheard of as to connive at cigarettes!
“She’s breaking—breaking,” he reflected. “It’s the beginning of the end.”
CHAPTER VII
AT ROSS GRAHAM’S
The horses were at the door, likewise the secretary. He had encountered Mrs. Lumbard in the hall, and informed her that the luncheon gong would not sound at present.
She lifted her shoulders. “Curfew shall not ring to-night! Why the bouleversement?”
“Miss Frink wishes to do an errand.”
“It must be a marvelous one that won’t wait.”
The crest was lifted high. “She behaves very strangely,” was the dignified reply. “She is”—Grimshaw tapped his temple—“somewhat changed since her shock. It betrays itself in many ways. My deeply beloved and respected Miss Frink!” He shook his head.