"Who told you?" naturally asked Grace before she could think of anything else.
"Why, everybody is talking about it; and—"
"Everybody knows my business better than I do."
"Well, they say Mrs. Vandergilt doesn't give him time to—"
"Is he engaged to her?"
"Oh, dear! You are angry, aren't you? Well, I am glad it isn't true. Good-by."
How could the engagement be off when it never had been on? Grace made up her mind to talk to him very plainly, for the last time, that evening. She knew he would be at the Vandergilts' dinner dance that night. Well, she was going there, anyhow. Therefore she went. She almost had to elbow her way to where he stood. Mrs. Vandergilt was beside him; but Grace could see that H. R. owned the house.
"How do you do, my dear?" said Mrs. Vandergilt, so very graciously that Grace was filled with fury.
It was plain that H. R. was making a professional politician of Mrs. Vandergilt. Grace smiled at her—that is, she made her lips do it mechanically. Then she addressed the fiancé to whom she was not engaged:
"Hendrik!"