She raised her hand warningly.
“Bob, I’d be ashamed if anything could spoil our friendship. I’m perfectly satisfied that you had nothing to do with father’s troubles. So please forget it.”
She won him back to good nature—she had always been able to do that—and they talked of old times, of the companions of their youth in the park neighborhood. This was safe ground. The fact that they were harking back to their childhood and youth emphasized the changed circumstances of both the Durlands and the Cummingses. It didn’t seem possible that he was married; it struck her suddenly that he didn’t appear at all married; and with this came the reflection that he was the kind of man who should never marry. He should have kept himself free; he had too much temperament for a harmonious married life.
“You don’t know Evelyn,” he remarked a little absently. And then as though Grace’s not knowing Evelyn called for an explanation he added: “She was away at school for a long time.”
“What’s she like, Bob?” Grace asked. “A man ought to be able to draw a wonderful picture of his wife.”
“He should indeed! Let me see. She’s fair; blue eyes; tall, slender; likes to have something doing; wins golf cups; a splendid dancer.... Oh, pshaw! You wouldn’t get any idea from that!” he said with an uneasy laugh. “She’s very popular; people like her tremendously.”
“I’m sure she’s lovely, Bob. Is she musical?”
“Oh, she doesn’t care much for music; my practicing bores her. She used to sing a little but she’s given it up.”
He hadn’t said that he hoped she might meet Evelyn; and for a moment Grace resented this. She was a saleswoman in a department store and Evelyn had no time for an old friend of her husband who sold ready-to-wear clothing. A snob, no doubt, self-centered and selfish; Bob’s failure to suggest a meeting with his wife made it clear that he realized the futility of trying to bring them together.
“You haven’t missed me a bit!” cried Miss Reynolds appearing suddenly. “Is the music all over?”