“Your father phoned to papa last night—before the wires were down—that you and Mr. Faunce were engaged.”
“Oh!”
There was a low note of surprise and dismay in the exclamation, but Diane said no more. She drew Fanny into the sitting-room, where a fire had been kindled on the hearth.
“Mama sent her love,” Fanny went on, trying to appear cordial, “and of course papa must have said something over the phone; but, you know, papa has to think twice before he says just the right thing.”
Diane was trying to remove Fanny’s hat and furs, but the latter resisted.
“Oh, no, I can’t stay, really! I just ran over to—to wish you joy, dear Diane!”
There was a suspicion of a quiver in the girlish voice which, at another time, would not have failed to attract her friend’s attention; but, at the moment, Diane’s mind was occupied with the vexatious thought of her father’s haste. She knew him so well, knew how skilled and subtle he was in his political manipulations, and she experienced a new and unpleasant dread that he had used his skill and subtlety on Arthur.
Was it possible that Arthur’s haste was due to her father? A deep blush mounted to Diane’s hair, transforming and beautifying her face so much that Fanny was startled.
“How beautiful you look, Di! Are you—is it because you’re so happy?”
“I don’t think that’s just what I feel, Fanny. It’s too new to think of like that. It only seems to pervade everything, and to change my point of view. I’m—I’m not used to it yet, and I can’t think why papa was in such a hurry to announce it!”