She had almost finished her list of invitations when Claude burst into the library. She turned her head for a second and went on writing. He strode up to the table and began to read the cards. 52
“Please go away, Claude. Don’t touch them. They’re still wet.”
“Great heavens! You aren’t asking Mrs. Carruthers!” he ejaculated.
“Why not?”
“She’s simply impossible. Angela, take her off the list.”
“This is mother’s list, not mine.”
“But that woman—Angela, she isn’t proper.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know.”
“I don’t.”