“It’s always ‘Let her do it her own way,’ with you. You backed her up in this foolishness. We’ve had all the publicity I intend to have through Isabelle. She will go back to school, and stay in retirement, until we are ready to bring her out,” said Mrs. Bryce, firmly.
“All I say is that to-morrow is soon enough to take it up with her. The kid’s had a bad fall, and she needs to get together.”
“Yes, she has! She comes home and goes to sleep for sixteen hours, while we read the newspapers.”
“Newspapers?”
“Column after column of what you did to Cartel’s opening. If he doesn’t sue Wally for a fat sum, I miss my guess.”
“What did they say?”
“You can read them for yourself. I intend that you shall. If there is any way to cure your conceit, I’d like to see it done,” Mrs. Bryce continued.
“Plenty of time later,” urged Wally, distressed at his daughter’s white, tragic face. “Did Cartel say anything to you last night?”
Isabelle nodded.