She started and blushed deeply. "You know?" she murmured.
"Is it a secret?"
"Not from you. I didn't know where to reach you by phone."
There was a somewhat painful silence. I did not feel inclined to make things easy for her.
"Aren't you—aren't you going to congratulate me?" she murmured at last.
"No," I said bluntly.
She looked at me full of surprise and pain, like a hurt child, but I was hurt, too, and impenitent.
"Oh, Irma, how could you?" I cried at last. It was the first time I had ever addressed her so. At the moment neither of us noticed it.
My question confused her. "I—I don't know," was her strange answer.
Presently she recovered herself somewhat. "Why shouldn't I?" she demanded, showing fight.