“It was at the Grant.”
“I did not see Eileen, but of course I was busy. Was she alone? We had a nice luncheon—grilled pork chops and country gravy. The gravy was good—no lumps. It made me think of yours.”
“My gravy is not always lumpy,” she said with a frown. “It just happened that way the last two times because I was called to the telephone while I was making it.”
“Oh, sure, that’s all right.”
He carefully adjusted her chair at the table, and drew his own close beside it, pulling his plate and silverware half-way around the table from where Eveley had placed them.
“You look sweeter than ever, to-night, Eve. But I hope the gravy is not lumpy.”
“She wore a black dress and white gloves, and a black hat.”
“Eileen did? Was it a new dress?”
“No, the one with you.”
“Sure enough, I believe she did. A georgette dress, beaded in front. Quite pretty. But there was a rip in her glove. She showed it to me herself. She said she did it on the car, but it looked like an old rip to me.”