“I don’t think you should drive on lonely roads at night.”
“Nothing very lonely between here and Atlantic City, after we get out of that avenue of yours. But if you don’t want to stay alone—there’s always mah-jongg——”
“I detest mah-jongg. Run along. I’ll be all right.”
She shrugged her shoulders as the two girls ran upstairs to put on their things. She could hear the car, anyway. Easy enough to hide behind those thickly planted trees in the avenue.
“I’ll stop at the house and ask Geoff to go with us,” said Elsie, as the young gardener brought Polly’s roadster to the door. “Then he can take us to one of the hotels for supper. Polly says she feels like making a night of it.”
“Good idea,” said Gita coolly, and wondered what excuse Pelham would make.
She tapped softly on the door of the sick-room. The nurse whispered that her patient was sleeping soundly, for the first time without an opiate.
That duty done she sat down firmly with her novel; but after she had read one page four times wondered why anybody wasted time on fiction, and flung the really notable effort into a corner.
She resolved not to think and promptly began thinking.
Fine performance for her—sneaking out at night to meet a man and indulge in a semi-romantic episode on the salt marshes. They’d probably freeze. Better wear her fur coat. Look like a bear on its hind legs.