"Well," she said, "I did think, Clara, that if you didn't have any sense, you would have some consideration for Carrie."
I had been addressing the envelope to Bill, and so I shoved a sheet of paper over it.
"I'm not going to try to read what you are writing," she said rudely.
"What do you mean about Carrie?"
"She's almost ill, that's all. How could anyone have had any idea that Roger and you——" She fairly choked.
"Roger and I are only glad to be together again," I said defiantly. Then I changed to a wistful tone. Just hearing it made me sorry for myself. "We are old friends; Carrie knew that. It is cruel of you all to—to spoil the little bit of happiness I can get out of life."
"What about Bill?"
"Bill?" I said vaguely. "Oh—Bill! Well, Bill would never stand in the way of my being true to myself. He would want me to be happy."
I put my handkerchief suddenly to my eyes, and she gave me a scathing glance.
"I'm going to telephone Bill," she said. "You're not sane, Clara. And when you come back to your senses it may be too late."