“No. But even if you were, a bride-to-be is always forgiven anything.” She gave Jerome a glancing look.
“I’d like you to meet my friend Miss Utterbourne,” said Stella, turning to Jerome, and feeling that the situation might possibly develop embarrassments.
The two nodded formally, Elsa’s eyes merely drooping a little more. Then Jerome felt so profoundly unhappy that he just mumbled something, raised his hat, and left them. But as he walked he unconsciously straightened his shoulders a little, and held his head surprisingly high.
“Isn’t that the young man you threw over, Stella?”
“Yes, we were engaged for awhile,” Stella replied with a tone of attempted lightness.
Elsa gazed after him. “Something tells me you’ll never see him again.”
Her friend appeared rather startled. “What do you mean, Elsa?”
“I don’t know,” the other shrugged. “The way his back looked, I guess. Things come to me like that, and I always speak them out.”
“Do you mean he might do something—something desperate?” faltered Stella.