“That’s about all,” said Delafield.
Lucy shut up her book and rose.
“Wait a minute,” Delafield decided. “I want to add a postscript.”
Lucy sat down.
“By the way,” Delafield dictated, “I wish you’d order the flowers at Tolley’s. White orchids for Edith of course. He’ll know the right thing for the bridesmaids—I’ll get Edith to send him the color scheme——”
Lucy’s pencil dashed and dotted. She looked up, hesitated. “Miss Towne doesn’t care for orchids.”
“How do you know?” he demanded.
She fluttered the leaves of her notebook and found an order from Towne to a local florist. “He says here, ‘Anything but orchids—she doesn’t like them.’”
“But I’ve been sending her orchids every week.”
“Perhaps she didn’t want to tell you——”