XXI OBSESSED
When tea was over Mrs. Postlewaite arose.
"Come around soon and see me, Stephanie!" she smiled, and with an intimately gracious nod, she resumed her progress down the piazza.
"Where is Gladys?" Pendleton asked.
"On the other side, playing Auction, I think; don't disturb her, Montague—and if you will call my car, I'll go home. I've had about enough excitement for one afternoon." She breathed a sigh of intense relief. "The last is very gratifying, isn't it, my friend?"
"Mrs. Postlewaite and Mrs. Porterfield, of all others!" exclaimed Pendleton. "The best witnesses you could possibly have. It's too lucky for words! Your rehabilitation is effected and Porshinger is undone. He will be cut by everyone and expelled from the Clubs. It is a social Waterloo for him."
"But it doesn't relieve you of his revenge," she objected. "It will make him all the more determined to square off."
"Don't let that bother you, dear—I mean, Stephanie!" he laughed. "You're free of him—he won't try his dirty tricks on you—and I'm a man, and it doesn't matter. I can meet him half way and then some. In fact, I'm hoping he will be kind enough to give me the opportunity."
"I'm afraid for you, Montague—indeed I'm afraid!" she repeated.