"She'd agreed to come," replied Mrs. Leveridge, loosening her bonnet-strings and sighing. "But at the last minute she found it wasn't possible."
The room rustled expectantly. There is always a chance that the reason for a bride's regrets may be of interest.
"Nothing serious, I hope," said Mrs. West insinuatingly.
Mrs. Leveridge's sigh was provocative of further questions.
"Well, no, and then again, yes. It isn't anything like a death in the family. But you don't have to live long to find out that death ain't the worst thing."
"My goodness, Minerva," exclaimed Susan Fitzgerald, aghast. "What's happened?"
Mrs. Leveridge's deliberative gaze swept the silently expectant company.
"Of course, I wouldn't repeat it everywhere. But I'm sure anything I say won't go a step further."
Twenty voices replied, "Of course not," with a unanimity which gave it the effect of a congregational response in the litany.
Mrs. Leveridge, having made terms with her conscience, from all appearances rather enjoyed the responsibility of enlightening her audience, "It's her husband."