Laura Whitner looked at her hands. “You’re not married, are you?” Carla wore no wedding ring.
Carla smiled and nodded.
Laura looked astonished, her scarlet mouth, like a wicked child’s, twisted with all the emotions she felt and several that she did not. “To whom? To the little one here?” She motioned to Robert Holton who had been standing silently watching her.
Carla laughed. “No, Laura, to Bankton in England.”
“The painter?”
“The painter. We’ve been married two years.”
“Are you happy?” There was a dark note in her voice as she said this and Carla could tell that it was something she wanted to know.
“I am not unhappy,” said Carla, knowing that this was no answer but she hoped that Holton would grasp her meaning.
“I’m sorry,” said Laura Whitner almost undramatically. “I married again, you know.”
“I heard you did. Is he here tonight? I used to know him.”