“Don’t sniff at Aunt Lora, Bailey,” said Ruth. “I’ve had to speak to you about that before. What’s the matter? What has sent you flying up here?”
“I have had a shock,” said Bailey. “I have been very greatly disturbed. I have just been speaking to Clarence Grayling.”
He eyed her accusingly through his gold-rimmed glasses. She remained tranquil.
“And what had Clarence to say?”
“A great many things.”
“I gather he told you I had refused him.”
“If it were only that!”
Ruth rapped the piano sharply.
“Bailey,” she said, “wake up. Either get to the point or go or read a book or do some tatting or talk about something else. You know perfectly well that I absolutely refuse to endure your impressive manner. I believe when people ask you the time you look pained and important and make a mystery of it. What’s troubling you? I should have thought Clarence would have kept quiet about insulting me. But apparently he has no sense of shame.”
Bailey gaped. Bailey was shocked and alarmed.