She flashed him a quick, startled glance. She did not wish him to understand too much. But she need not have feared. Phil was as blind as ever so far as she was concerned.
"You are a wonder, Barbie. I'm a little scared of you all at once. I am afraid I haven't been quite appreciating what an angel I was entertaining--or rather letting entertain me."
"Don't. If you mean that silly speech, you needn't talk. I feel as humble as--that puddle," groping for a simile she happened to let her gaze fall upon a pool which a recent shower had left in the gutter.
Phil smiled.
"There's a star reflected in the puddle," he said gently, then dropped the subject as she obviously desired.
As they stood in the crowded Subway later there was little chance for conversation, but Barb noticed that Phil looked worn and tired, almost haggard. Her heart was very tender for him. It didn't matter how much she was hurt. Barb sensed intuitively that women were meant to be hurt. But that Phil should suffer was all but intolerable. She almost hated Sylvia who had brought that look to his eyes. Alas! What a jumble things were! How changed everything was since that happy September week with Sylvia at Arden Hall! She remembered how Suzanne had rallied Sylvia on her fitness for matrimony and charged herself in jest with having designs on Phil Lorrimer. Funny Suzanne! Poor Suzanne! What was she doing?
It happened at the moment Suzanne was sitting by the fire in Miss Murray's apartment, doing absolutely nothing for the first time in many strenuous weeks. There Barbara and Phil found her a few moments later, to their unbounded astonishment.
"Well, aren't you going to greet the returning prodigal?" asked Suzanne, getting up.
Whereupon Barb recovered sufficiently to throw her arms around her friend with a series of little rapturous, inarticulate, affectionate gurgles such as women occasionally indulge in.
When she had finished it was Phil's turn, and though his greeting was more decorous, it was no less hearty.