“Oh, Wotton, I wanted to tell you that Mr. James Dyckman has just brought us the news of his marriage.”
Wotton's eyebrows went up and his hands sought each other and whispered together as he faltered:
“Indeed, ma'am! That is a surprise, isn't it?”
“He has married a very brilliant young lady who has had great success in—ah—in the—ah—moving pictures.”
The old man gulped a moment, but finally got it down. “The moving pictures! Indeed, ma'am! My wife and I are very fond of the—the movies, as the saying is.”
“Everybody is, isn't they—aren't they? Perhaps you have seen Miss Anita Adair in the—er—pictures.”
“Miss Anita Adair? Oh, I should say we 'ave! And is she the young lady?”
“Yes. They are coming to live with us for a time.”
“Oh, that will be very pleasant! Quite an honor, you might say—That will make two extra at dinner, then?”
“Yes. No—that is, we were expecting Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler, but I wish you would telephone them that I am quite ill—not very, you understand—a bad cold, I think, would be best. Something to keep me to my room for the day.”