“I’ll have to go somewhere first,” he said, hurriedly. “I’ll try not to be late for dinner. But if I am, go without me, and I’ll follow.... Just explain to Anson——”
“Explain what? Where are you going?”
Indignation and disappointment had brought tears to her eyes. This outrageous desertion was too much for her; she struggled for a moment to hold her tongue, but she could not.
“It’s that waitress!” she cried. “Ah know it! Some nasty, common, scheming woman.... It’s a shame! It’s a shame!”
She began to cry.
“It’s a shame!” she cried again.
Nick looked at her with frigid disgust.
“It happens to be a—very old friend who’s in great trouble,” he said.
“What old friend? How can you have old friends here that we never heard of?”
He turned away from her and rang up a nearby garage for a taxi.