Her best friend—the friend who knew her and believed in her—rose to her feet and came sailing down the room. She nodded gaily to Abbott, whom she hated, and whom she had not recognized for years, and laid her hand upon Letty’s arm.
“Where’s Brian?” she asked.
Letty shrugged her shoulders—it was not altogether a natural gesture.
“On duty to-night,” she answered.
Her best friend paused for a moment.
“Come over and join our party, both of you,” she said. “Dicky Pennell’s here and Gracie Marsh—just landed. They’d love to meet you.”
Letty shook her head slowly. There was a look in her face which even her best friend did not understand.
“I’m afraid that we can’t do that,” she said. “I am Mr. Abbott’s guest.”
“And to-night,” Austen Abbott intervened, looking up at the woman who stood between them, “I am not disposed to share Miss Shaw with anybody.”
Her best friend could do no more than shake her head and go away. The two were left alone for the rest of the evening. When they departed together, people who knew felt that a whiff of tragedy had passed through the room. Nobody understood—or pretended to understand. Even before her engagement, Letty had never been known to sup alone with a man. That she should do so now, and with this particular man, was preposterous!