“And you know, Web, I shouldn’t want you to think me mean and envious and jealous. I’m not really that way; you know I’m not! And of course if I’d thought you’d really bring the Illyrians here, I should never have mentioned it at all.”
Webster passed his hand across his brow in bewilderment. At moments when he thought he was meeting the most exacting requirements of the marital relationship it was enormously disturbing to find himself defeated.
“Your luncheon was a great success; the talk at the table was wonderful; and the girls you brought in made a big hit. It’s the best party you ever pulled off,” he declared warmly.
“I’m glad you think so,” she said slowly, giving him her direct gaze across the table, “but there were one or two things I didn’t quite like, Web. It seemed to me your young friend Tibbotts was a little too conspicuous. I’m surprised that you let him come to the house. You couldn’t—you wouldn’t have let him know how the Illyrians came here? He really seemed to assume full charge of the party, and in the drawing room he was flirting outrageously with pretty Lois Hubbard, and kept her giggling when I’d asked her specially to be nice to the Fourth Assistant Secretary, who’s a bachelor, you know. And if Mrs. Hubbard knew we had introduced Lois to a boy from the racetrack——”
“It would be awful,” said Webster with one of the elusive grins that always baffled her.
“What would be awful?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing! I was thinking of Wrong Number and what a blow it would be if I should lose him. I must remember to raise his salary in the morning.”
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.