“I'll stay in. How is Gladys? I'm longing to see her again.”
“She is very well. A trifle—a little upset.”
“Upset? What about?”
“She will tell you when she arrives. I have just been 'phoning to her. She is coming at once.” There was another pause. “I'm afraid she has bad news.”
“What news?”
There was silence at the other end of the wire.
“What news?” repeated Sally, a little sharply. She hated mysteries.
But Fillmore had rung off. Sally hung up the receiver thoughtfully. She was puzzled and anxious. However, there being nothing to be gained by worrying, she carried the breakfast things into the kitchen and tried to divert herself by washing up. Presently a ring at the door-bell brought her out, to find her sister-in-law.
Marriage, even though it had brought with it the lofty position of partnership with the Hope of the American Stage, had effected no noticeable alteration in the former Miss Winch. As Mrs. Fillmore she was the same square, friendly creature. She hugged Sally in a muscular manner and went on in the sitting-room.
“Well, it's great seeing you again,” she said. “I began to think you were never coming back. What was the big idea, springing over to England like that?”