Irene was alone and, in a new gown of coppergreen crepe that enhanced the gold in her hair, might have posed as the spirit of spring. Minnie had remained down town, she explained, and Tommy was not expected until nine.
“What’s happened?” she demanded. “I know something’s doing or you wouldn’t have called me up from home.”
Grace took off her coat, hung it over the back of a chair and flung herself down on the couch.
“Console me a little, Irene,—but not too much—I’ve seen Ward for the last time.”
“His wife make a row?” Irene inquired.
“Yes, he took me to see her and she——”
“He took you to see her! Grace Durland, what are you talking about?”
“Just that!” and Grace, no longer able to restrain herself, burst into tears.
“You poor baby!”
Irene jumped up and thrust a pillow back of Grace’s head and sat down beside her. “Tell me about it if you want to, but not unless you feel like it, honey.”