“What a caddish thing to do!” Craige spoke with warmth as he saw Mrs. Potter shrink back and her half-extended hand drop to her side. Turning quickly, she slipped behind two women and disappeared from their sight. Walking moodily ahead, Leigh Wallace found himself face to face with his hostess and Charles Craige.
“Not leaving so early, surely?” she exclaimed as he put out his hand.
“Yes, I just dropped in for a minute,” Wallace explained, and he made no effort to conceal the indifference of his tone. “I don’t feel very fit this afternoon, so you must excuse me. Good evening, Craige,” and he turned abruptly and left them.
“Of all uncivil people!” observed Mrs. Parsons, much incensed. “That’s the last invitation he gets to my house.”
“He doesn’t look well,” Craige remarked thoughtfully. “I presume he and Kitty Baird have had another quarrel.”
“Well, he has no right to vent his ill-humor on me or my guests.” Mrs. Parsons was not pacified.
“I hope Kitty decides to marry Ted Rogers and not Leigh Wallace.” Craige looked grave. “It would be a far more suitable match, although I understand Rodgers is not wealthy.”
“Mr. Rodgers was here a moment ago.” Mrs. Parsons raised her lorgnette and glanced about her. “He asked particularly for Kitty. Where in the world is she? She was to pour tea for me this afternoon.”
“Have you not heard—”
“Heard?” Attracted by the alteration in Craige’s voice, Mrs. Parsons looked at him. “Heard what?”