“No doubt by that time it was true enough. Such duplicity in one whom you trusted was—”
“Yes. And he had always said he did not admire Miss Blanque at all. Well, I went home and wrote him a scorching note. I said that but for Eustace, I should never have discovered that he was flirting with another girl while pretending to think of nobody but me!”
“That was quite right. I hope he was ashamed of himself!”
“Well, no; he wasn’t. He had been at a stockholder’s meeting all that afternoon. My own father was there, and he called him as a witness! And I actually had to explain why I had gone to the matinée with Eustace!”
“Oh, my goodness, how awful!” cried the girl with the Roman nose. “But you said you heard Miss Blanque call him Tom!”
“So I did. It was Tom Dashaway who was engaged to Elaine. And wasn’t it a joke? She never found him out at all!”
“It is awfully hard to get ahead of a man,” sighed the girl with the classic profile; “and it is the irony of fate that when one does succeed in doing it, the victory is usually of such a character that, in order to retain it, one must say nothing at all about it!”
“Very true,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Oh, I am so enraged with Harold that I feel ready to die! I had an engagement with him on Saturday afternoon, and I forgot all about it and went out with Marie. I never thought of him at all until I saw him coming up the street, and then I dragged Marie into a shop. I was so excited that she thought a mad dog was coming, and almost created a scene!”
“And did he recognize you?” asked the blue-eyed girl.
“I’m afraid so. He didn’t come, as usual, on Sunday; and I took the dilemma by the horns, and wrote him a note, saying that I remained at home all Saturday afternoon expecting him; and why didn’t he come, as he had promised?”