“I don’t believe she even asked him in,” declared Gertrude, peeping out the window.
“I am sure she didn’t,” agreed Annabel. “I know he would have come in if she had asked him. Elizabeth doesn’t know how to handle men at all.”
“No, she is simply foolish the way she goes to work,” said Pauline. “No man likes to be cut so short. She just gave him a little nod and came on in before he had even got back in his car and started his engine. She’ll never win out with such indifference.”
“I don’t know about that,” put in Margaret, who loved to take the opposite view, “sometimes the grand independent way is quite taking, especially with a man like Billy McGraw, who has been spoiled to death. How did you happen to get a lift?” This to Elizabeth, who had just entered the room.
“I met Billy at Mrs. Markle’s and he asked to bring me home, as he was coming this way,” said Elizabeth with as much sangfroid as she could muster.
“I think I shall have the Markles and Mr. McGraw to dinner soon,” said Mrs. Wright, who had listened with half an ear to the conversation of her daughters. “I have meant to entertain them for some time and since they are such friends of Billy McGraw’s it would be agreeable to have them all come together.”
“I wouldn’t,” faltered Elizabeth. “You are not called on to entertain them.”
“I fancy I am the best judge of that,” said her mother sharply. “I should like to know since when it has been necessary for one of my daughters to dictate to me when I should and should not entertain in my own house. You say you have been calling at Mrs. Markle’s and it seems quite fitting then that I should call on her and invite her to dinner.”
“Don’t you like Mrs. Markle?” asked Margaret curiously, noting with amusement that Elizabeth had flushed painfully under her mother’s tirade. Mrs. Wright’s tirades were not usually looked upon very seriously by her daughters.
“Why, I never thought much about it,” said Elizabeth evasively.