Bob had jumped for the paper. "What is it?" he cried.
"I thought, of course, you had seen it." And as Bob urged him, he pointed to it almost without looking, as if he knew by heart the very place the words had in their column. And Bob read, spluttering, gurgling:
"Mrs. Richard Quin, who has been visiting her father, returned this morning to Chicago to start divorce proceedings against her husband. She names as corespondent the daughter of a prominent family of this town."
"I thought, of course, you knew," Johnnie murmured.
"He did," said Martha. "I told them."
Emily had been to look over Bob's shoulder. She was taking the paper into her own hands, as if, unless she looked at it closely, she could not believe the words.
"You didn't tell us THIS! You said HE was getting the divorce!" She had reduced Bob again to spluttering.
"What difference does it make?" she murmured. And Bob could only echo her words dazedly. But Johnnie was challenging her.
"As soon as I saw you were in trouble, I made up my mind. I'm not going to wait any longer." There was no mistaking either his words or his tone.
"Oh!" And then, "Am I in trouble?" She spoke with indifferent curiosity, as if the idea was unimportant to her. "What trouble am I in?"