"I'm going to tell his mother," said Mrs. Rumsen.
Rita took her tea cup and sank back in her chair absently. "Oh, well—perhaps you'd better," she said. "I'm going in for square-toed shoes and settlement meetings."
The General grunted and sipped his Scotch, but when Jeff and Cortland came in the women were still laughing at Mrs. Cheyne. Jeff walked across the room to his wife and kissed her.
"Father—Aunt Caroline—Hello! Rita."
"Well, sir—" from Camilla, "please give an account of yourself."
"You'll have to speak to Cort. We stopped in at the Club for a minute. Cheyne was there and Hal Dulaney, Perot, Steve Gillis, Douglas Warrington, and two or three others. They wanted us to stay for dinner. But we didn't."
"Of course not," said Camilla so decisively that Rita Cheyne laughed.
"There!" she said pityingly. "Oh, Jeff! a subject and a slave as well! Aren't you really going to let him go, Camilla?"
Camilla looked up into Jeff's face with a heavenly smile.
"Of course—if he wants to."