Jimmy made a little gesture of regret. He'd have spoken too, but she didn't give him time.
"You don't mean to tell me," she cried, "that you didn't find out where she lived while you were right there in New York!"
John came in just then with the cocktails and Violet, turning to him tragically, repeated, "He doesn't even know where she lives!"
"Oh, I'm a boob, I know," said Jimmy. "Give me a cocktail. A telephone's the driest thing in the world to talk into. But, as I told the other five ..."
Violet frowned as she echoed, "The other five—what?"
Jimmy turned to John Williamson with a perfectly electric grin.
"The other five of Rose Aldrich's friends—and yours," he said, "who called me up this afternoon and invited me to dinner, and asked for her address so that they could write her notes and tell her how glad they were."
John said, "Whoosh!" all but upset his tray and slammed it down on the piano, in order to leave himself free to jubilate properly. With solemn joy he ceremoniously shook hands with Jimmy.
Violet stood looking at them thoughtfully. A little flush of color was coming up into her face.
"You two men," she said, "are trying to act as if I weren't in this; as if I weren't just as glad as you are, and hadn't as good a right to be. John here," this was to Jimmy, "has been gloating ever since he came home with the paper. And you ... Did you mean me by that snippy little thing you said about the 'I-knew-her-when' club? Oh, it was fair enough. I'm glad you said it. Because some people we know have been downright catty about her. But you both know perfectly well that I've stood up for her ever since last fall when we came through New York."