“Good afternoon,” she returned, smiling.
It was Miss Prindle’s voice all right. But that face!
“How is Mr. White?” I inquired, to a purpose.
“Mr. White?”
“Your husband,” I said glibly. “Is he feeling well to-day?”
“You are confusing me with some other woman,” she said. “For my name isn’t White. I am Miss Prindle.”
For a moment or two I was dizzy.
“I—I didn’t recognize you,” I fumbled. “You—you look different.”
“Oh! Do I?” and she laughed.
“You look very beautiful,” I told her.