“But, my dear”—Miss Staffle’s voice was slightly acidulated—“Mr. Selsbury engaged me, and I am afraid....”
“Mr. Selsbury doesn’t want a companion,” said Diana. “Now, my angel, are you going to give me trouble, or are you going to be a sweet little cherub and fly?”
Gordon came home prepared to face a storm and ready to present a rocky face either to the waves of her wrath or the drizzle of her tears. He found her trying a new record on a brand-new gramophone, her feet moving lightly to the magical rhythm of “I Ain’t Nobody’s Darling.” He resented the gramophone, but had other matters of greater moment to discuss. There was no sign of the excellent Miss Staffle.
“Anybody been?” he asked carelessly.
She stopped whistling.
“Nobody except an elderly lady who made the curious mistake of thinking I wanted a companion.”
“Where is she?” asked Gordon, his heart sinking.
“I didn’t trouble to take her address,” said Diana. “Why—did you want her?”
“You sent her away?”
Diana nodded.