"N-no-nothing!" she stammered, and followed Ruth, who had passed her, unnoticing.
Her color returned as wrath dispelled amazement.
For the first time since H. R. began to woo her in public places with sandwiches Grace Goodchild actually had to eat food in a restaurant. In New York famous people don't go to restaurants to eat.
She was distraite throughout the luncheon. She thought Monty was an ass.
And the other feeding beasts must have read the New York papers! There was absolutely no excuse.
In the evening the same thing happened. That is, nothing happened. The Fiddles' friends tried to be particularly nice to her by talking of the opera, novels, the dancing-craze, the resurgence of the Republican party, and cubism. It only made it worse. And not one knew the Rutgers Roll!
The next day Ruth and the young men took her to the Philadelphia Country Club. Same thing! And later to a dance at the Fitz-Marlton. Ditto!
Her good looks, her gowns, and her nice manners made a very favorable impression on all of Ruth's friends, male and female, young and old. Hang 'em, that's all it did!
It was like Lucullus being asked to eat sanitary biscuits.
She had wanted peace. But not in a burial crypt. On the fourth day of extinction she said to Ruth after breakfast: