Reluctantly she hung up the receiver and called Morton to help her dress. She would have liked to get the matter out of the way before she went about the pretty ceremony, and submitted herself to her nurse’s hands with an ill grace and troubled thoughts. The coarse beauty of Lizzie’s face haunted her. It reminded her of an actress that Carter had once openly admired, and she had secretly disliked. She found herself shuddering inwardly every time she recalled Lizzie’s harsh voice, and uncouth sentences.
She paid little heed to the dressing process after all and let Morton have her way in everything, starting nervously when the ’phone bell rang, or anyone tapped at her door.
A message came from her father finally. He hoped to be with her in less than an hour now, and as yet no word had come from Carter! Why did he not know she would be anxious? What could have kept him from his usual greeting of her, and on their wedding day!
Suddenly, in the midst of Morton’s careful draping of the wedding veil which she was trying in various ways to see just how it should be put on at the last minute, Starr started up from her chair.
“I cannot stand this, Mortie. That will do for now. I must telephone Mr. Carter. I can’t understand why he doesn’t call me.”
“Oh, but the poor man is that busy!” murmured Morton excusingly as she hurried obediently out of the room. “Now, mind you don’t muss that beautiful veil.”
But after a half hour of futile attempt to get into communication with Carter, Starr suddenly appeared in her door calling for her faithful nurse again.
“Mortie!” she called excitedly. “Come here quick! I’ve ordered the electric. It’s at the door now. Put on your big cloak and come with me! I’ve got to see Mr. Carter at once and I can’t get him on the ’phone.”
“But Miss Starr!” protested Morton. “You’ve no time to go anywhere now, and look at your pretty veil!”
“Never mind the veil, Mortie, I’m going. Hurry. I can’t stop to explain. I’ll tell you on the way. We’ll be back before anyone has missed us.”