“People’s point of view.” By people she meant Dick, and Mrs. Warner knew it. She did not go on.
“Dear Cecily, I’m so sorry to overburden you with another worry just now, but some one else will tell you if I don’t. You are bound to hear it about town in a day or so. And Leslie and I wanted to know what you thought about it before we decided finally what our attitude should be.”
“What has happened?”
“I had a letter yesterday from Walter. It seems he is married.”
“Walter—at college—married? But he’s only twenty.”
“Twenty-one to-morrow.” Such sorrow in poor Mrs. Warner’s voice as she reflected on that birthday.
“But are you sure? To whom?”
“To a girl he met in the town there. He wrote me simply that he was married and that he hoped we’d like Della. She is very pretty.”
“But why marry her this way, mother? Why——” She stopped with a possible answer flashing through her own mind.
“He wrote your father, too. I didn’t see that letter. Leslie said it was confidential, but he seemed to think Walter had done the only thing. He compromised the girl in some way. It seems they were out all night in an automobile—and there was talk.” Neither woman spoke for a moment. Delicacy, fine distaste put an end to the conversation. Cecily’s face grew harder than her mother’s.