Mrs. Helen Davies touched all of her fingertips together in front of her on the library table, and beamed on Grace.
“Don’t worry about Gail,” she smilingly advised. “She is driving with Edward E. Allison. He is the richest bachelor in New York, though not socially prominent. No one has ever been able to interest him. I predict for Gail a brilliant future,” and she moved over contentedly to her favourite contrast with Minerva.
“Gail would attract any one,” returned Mrs. Sargent complacently, and then a little crease came in her brow. “I wonder where she met him.”
“At the vestry meeting, Lucile said.”
“Oh,” and Mrs. Sargent’s brow cleared instantly. “Jim introduced them. I wonder where Jim is!”
“I am glad Gail is not definitely engaged,” mused Mrs. Davies. “I am pleased with her. Young Mr. Clemmens may seem to be a very brilliant match, back home, but, with her exceptional advantages, she has every right to expect to do better.”
Again the creases came in Mrs. Sargent’s brow.
“I don’t know,” she worried. “Gail has had four letters in four days from Mr. Clemmens. Of course, if she genuinely cares for him—”
“But she doesn’t,” Helen comforted herself, figuring it all out carefully. “A young man who would write a letter a day, would exert every possible pressure to secure a promise, before he would let a beautiful creature like Gail come to New York for the winter; and the fact that he did not succeed proves, conclusively, that she has not made up her mind about him.”
The door opened, and Jim Sargent came in, wiping the snow from his stubby moustache before he distributed his customary hearty greetings to the family.