But Leonore did not look surprised. She only looked the other way, and the corners of her mouth were curving upwards.
“The journey?” queried Watts.
“You mean Newport, don’t you?” said Leonore helpfully, when Peter said nothing. Leonore was looking out from under her lashes—at things in general, of course.
Peter said nothing. Peter was not going to lie about what he had meant, and Leonore liked him all the better for not using the deceiving loophole she had opened.
Watts said, “Oh, of course. It improves every year. But wasn’t the journey hot, old man?”
“I didn’t notice,” said Peter.
“Didn’t notice! And this one of the hottest days of the year.”
“I had something else to think about,” explained Peter.
“Politics?” asked Watts.
“Oh, Peter,” said Leonore, “we’ve been so interested in all the talk. It was just as maddening as could be, how hard it was to get New York papers way out west. I’m awfully in the dark about some things. I’ve asked a lot of people here about it, but nobody seems to know anything. Or if they do, they laugh at me. I met Congressman Pell yesterday at the Tennis Tournament, and thought he would tell me all about it. But he was horrid! His whole manner said: ‘I can’t waste real talk on a girl.’ I told him I was a great friend of yours, and that you would tell me when you came, but he only laughed and said, he had no doubt you would, for you were famous for your indiscretion. I hate men who laugh at women the moment they try to talk as men do.”