“It’s the first I’ve worn in years; but this is too good to hide.” She looked at the stone absently. “By the way, Grace, you don’t seem to be burdened with engagements. I wonder if you’d care to drive into the country tomorrow evening for dinner—a little party of four. My friend—the man who gave me this,”—she held up her hand,—“has a guest, a most interesting man you’d be sure to like. If you haven’t anything better to do it might amuse you to meet him. A party of three is a little awkward and you’d balance things beautifully.”
Grace’s heart quickened to find herself at last admitted to Irene’s confidence, a thing flattering in itself. Ethel’s charge that Irene was accepting the attentions of a married man was probably true, or the girl would have approached the matter differently. It dawned upon Grace that the word party had a meaning previously unknown to her, signifying a social event clandestine in character, in which the wives of married men were not participants. The idea was novel and it caused Grace’s wits to range over a wide field of speculation.
“I suppose men do sometimes take their wives on parties that are a little different—just a quiet little kick-up?” she ventured.
“Not so you’d exactly notice it,” Irene answered, with a shrug and a smile of indulgence at Grace’s innocence. “A wife knows her husband and all his jokes; why should she meet him socially?”
“Tomorrow night’s our French class,” said Grace, recovering herself quickly. “We’d have to cut it.”
“Oh, I hadn’t forgotten that. To be frank about it, I thought that would make it easier for you to get away. I don’t know just how your folks at home are—whether they always check you up as to where you go. As you’ve been staying down town on lesson nights that would help you put it over. I suggested Friday night to my friend instead of Saturday, hoping to make sure of you. There are plenty of girls who’ll go on parties but this is a case where just any girl won’t do. You’ll fit in perfectly and I hope you’ll go.”
“Thanks, ever so much, Irene; of course, I’m pleased to death to go,” said Grace. “But, you’ll have to tell me what to wear; my wardrobe’s rather limited.”
“Oh, the occasion doesn’t call for magnificence. Dinner’s to be in a charming old house about fourteen miles from town. I’m going to wear the simplest thing I have.”
“It’s awfully nice of you to ask me,” said Grace, her eyes dancing at the prospect. “But if I mustn’t mention the party at home, I’ll have to get in early so mother and Ethel won’t suspect anything.”
“Let them suspect, honey! My family used to try to check me up every time I went to the corner to mail a postal; but they’ve got over it. By the way, I think that sister of yours doesn’t like me. I passed her in the street yesterday and she gave me what I shouldn’t call a loving look.”