“Hello!” said Wilfred. “I’ve just been up to see if Frances Mary was back.”
Jessie’s expressive mouth tightened for a flash at the mention of her friend’s name, and Wilfred wondered what was up. Had the two quarreled? “No,” said Jessie, readily. “She won’t be back for another month. The hills are too fine to leave, she writes. And her work is coming well.”
“Hard on us,” he said lightly.
Again that flicker of intense disapproval across Jessie’s face.
“Come and have tea somewhere,” urged Wilfred. “I’m just back myself. I’m starving for a little town talk.”
“So even I will do?” she said with heavy sarcasm.
Is she jealous? thought Wilfred. What a rum start that would be! “Your reasoning is faulty as usual,” he said. “There is great virtue in an accidental encounter. It has changed the fate of Kingdoms!”
“Sorry, I can’t give you the change to prove it,” said Jessie. “I’m booked for tea at a house in Forty-Seventh street. You can walk to the door with me if you want.”
He turned around, and accompanied her.
Presently she said with a sharp, sidelong glance of the sloe-black eyes: “You’re changed since I saw you.”