Peter had not telephoned. Susan, quietly determined to treat him, or attempt to treat him, with at least the frank protest she would have shown to another girl, telephoned to the Baxter house at once. Mr. Coleman was not yet at home.
Some of her resolution crumbled. It was very hard to settle down, after supper, to an evening of solitaire. In these quiet hours, Susan felt less confident of Peter's attitude when she announced her ultimatum; felt that she must not jeopardize their friendship now, must run no risks.
She had worked herself into a despondent and discouraged frame of mind when the telephone rang, at ten o'clock. It was Peter.
"Hello, Sue!" said Peter gaily. "I'm just in. Burns said that you telephoned."
"Burns said no more than the truth," said Susan. It was the old note of levity, anything but natural to to-night's mood and the matter in hand. But it was what Peter expected and liked. She heard him laugh with his usual gaiety.
"Yes, he's a truthful little soul. He takes after me. What was it?"
Susan made a wry mouth in the dark.
"Nothing at all," she said, "I just telephoned--I thought we might go out somewhere together."
"GREAT HEAVEN, WE'RE ENGAGED!" she reminded her sinking heart, fiercely.
"Oh, too bad! I was at the Gerald's, at one of those darn rehearsals."