“Ah, then you are heart-whole and fancy free?” But Marjorie treated the sentence as a remark and not as a question, and Mrs. Fordyce continued pleasantly. “Enough of intimate affairs today. Will you go through the morning mail and use your judgment about the answers to the invitations?”
Marjorie picked up the pile of letters on the table and rose.
“Are you——?” she stumbled in her speech, and Mrs. Fordyce eyed her in some surprise. “Are you quite satisfied with me?” and under her lingerie waist her heart pounded painfully as she awaited Mrs. Fordyce’s answer which was somewhat long in coming.
“Absolutely satisfied,” acknowledged Mrs. Fordyce, and the smile accompanying the words almost broke down Marjorie’s composure. Stooping, she kissed her warmly, and when she looked up some of the brightness had returned to her face. “I have absolute confidence in you,” added Mrs. Fordyce quietly. “Run along now, dear, and come back when you have finished answering the letters.”
Lighter at heart Marjorie hastened to the library, but on opening the door, she discovered Mr. Calderon Fordyce busy at his desk, and without disturbing him, she slipped back into the hall and sought the drawing-room. Going over to the boule cabinet, which she on several occasions had used in an emergency, she proceeded to open and sort Mrs. Fordyce’s correspondence, frequently making entries and looking up dates in an engagement book which she had brought with her. The last letter was in a handwriting which she recognized, and wondering why Mrs. Arnold should send a second invitation to the same person in the same mail, she tore open the envelope.
Dear Mrs. Fordyce, [she read],
I am just sending a formal invitation to your daughter to our dinner dance at the Country Club, and I do hope that she can come. I will see that Miss Fordyce is properly chaperoned. Miss Langdon’s presence will not be necessary....
Marjorie dropped the letter and stared vacantly before her. Five days previously Mrs. Arnold had gushingly invited her to the dinner dance, telling her that a written invitation would be sent to her shortly, and begging her not to forget the engagement. What did the sudden change of front portend? “Miss Langdon”—heretofore Mrs. Arnold, a leader in the young married set, had always addressed her as “Marjorie.”
Putting the letter back in its envelope, Marjorie commenced an answer to a luncheon invitation, and completing it, hurriedly folded the notepaper, only to discover that the back sheet was partially written on. With an exclamation of annoyance, she caught it up and ran her eyes over the clear back-hand, her mind subconsciously taking in the meaning of the written words:
Dear Captain Nichols: