She knew, of course, what had caused the change. It had become known that she had visited her husband at his request—and they assumed a reconciliation was likely to follow.
She finished her shopping and went out to her car—to find it with a deflated tire and the driver just beginning the repair. She glanced at the clock on the dash. It was after one. She was much later than she thought.
"Is that the correct time?" she asked the man.
"Yes, Mrs. Lorraine!" said he, touching his cap but without raising his eyes from the wheel.
It would be too late to go home for luncheon, by the time the repair was made, so she turned back into the department store and took the elevator to the dining room on the top floor.
The place was crowded—the head waiter and the captains at the far end of the room, as usual. There was no empty table in sight, and Stephanie paused at the door.
Instantly the eyes of a hundred women focussed on her. At the same time Marcia Emerson, sitting some distance down the room, saw her and getting up hastily came forward.
"Won't you join me at my table, Mrs. Lorraine?" she asked. "It's for two and I'm alone."
It so happened that Stephanie, since her return, had not encountered Miss Emerson, therefore there could be no memory of glances withheld nor of greetings lacking. It was very polite in her and she could not well refuse, though she would have been better satisfied had Marcia not done it.
"I shall be glad to join you—you're very kind," she answered.