” Look at that sailboat,” said Grant Grey.
“Yes,” said Joy contentedly.
The two were sitting on the piazza of the Grey’s summer home, which fronted the beach.
It had not been Grant who had finally called Joy up, but Betty, all thrills and eagerness. She asked Joy to come down for the week-end—“and Grant wants you to come, too!” she added, as if that settled it.
It had.
Sarah was frankly envious, Jerry rejoiced, at her invitation.
“You’ll get some rest,” said Jerry; “you never do here.”
“I wish we could get away,” Sarah grumbled; “I get so sick of summer in the city.”
“Why don’t you go somewhere for a few weeks?”
Jerry shrugged her shoulders, and knocked the ashes off her cigarette. “No funds, as the banks tell me constantly. I have to stick around town and do a little work once in awhile.”