II
There came one day a careless little note, scrawled in huge letters on a bizarre card with a purple and gold monogram:
“Won’t you come for dinner on Thursday?
“Julie Naylor.”
Lionel explained it to her when he arrived that evening.
“Horace made her,” he said. “If she had her own way, I don’t think she’d ever ask a woman into the house. Of course she’s out of the question. Impossible. But for Horace’s sake, I wish you’d come. He’s a decent old boy. And he likes you. Thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen—— You’ll go, won’t you?”
Upon reflection, it seemed the correct thing to do, and she consented.
Miss Eppendorfer helped her to get ready on the very important evening. She took the greatest interest in the whole affair, was very arch about it. Frances persisted in her “nothing really settled yet,” but Miss Eppendorfer refused to believe it.
“Oh, I know all about such things!” she said.