After luncheon Helen drove to The Shoreham, where the Burrells had lived since coming to Washington. Carrie Cora was the first to receive her. “I’ve had the hardest work keeping ma at home,” she said. “I didn’t want to let her know I knew you were coming. That would have spoiled everything. It’s just lovely of you to come! Gladys and Emeline have gone to the Philharmonic concert, and pa’s up to the House.”
Mrs. Burrell presently made a vociferous entrance. She was one of those women who do everything noisily. “Well, if this isn’t good of you, to come just after that party of yours! I should think you’d be all beat out.”
“I’ve come to take you for a drive,” Helen explained.
Mrs. Burrell slapped her dress with both hands. It was a shimmering brown silk of fashionable cut, that looked somehow as if it did not belong to her.
“I don’t believe I’m fit,” she said.
“Oh, yes, you are, ma,” Carrie Cora urged. “Please go.”
“We’ll go out into the country somewhere,” said Helen.
“So it don’t make any difference what you wear,” Carrie Cora chimed in.
Mrs. Burrell looked relieved. “I just hate to keep changing. It seems to me we do nothing here in Washington but dress, dress. I get so sick of it! That’s the worst of living in these hotels. You never feel at home.”
After starting with the old lady, Helen Briggs hesitated to broach the subject of Carrie Cora’s love affair. A remark she made soon after they had settled down into conversation unexpectedly relieved her of the necessity.