“Do you think I can ever escape from the thought of this?” The strong sweep of her arm seemed to indicate her bridal finery.
He sat in unhappy silence, and suddenly she laughed. “I might have known when he kept sending me orchids. When a man loves a woman he knows the things she likes.”
It was then that Towne made his mistake. “You ought to thank your lucky stars——”
She blazed out at him, “Uncle Fred, if you say anything more like that,—it’s utterly idiotic. But you won’t face facts. Your generation never does. I’m not in the least thankful. I’m simply furious.”
There was an hysterical note in her voice, but he was unconscious of the tension. She was not taking it in the least as he wished she might. She should have wept on his shoulder. Melted to tears he might have soothed her. But there were no tears in those blue eyes.
She trod on her flowers as she left the car. Looking straight ahead of her she ascended the steps. Within everything was in readiness for the wedding festivities. The stairway was terraced with hydrangeas, pink and white and blue. In the drawing-room were rose garlands with floating ribbons. And there was a vista of the dining-room—with the caterer’s men already at their posts.
Except for these men, a maid or two—and a detective to keep his eye on things, the house was empty. Everybody had gone to the wedding, and presently everybody would come back. The house would be stripped, the flowers would fade, the caterers would carry away the wasted food.
Edith stopped at the foot of the stairs. “How did they announce it at the church?”
“That it had been postponed. It was the only thing to do at the moment. Of course there will be newspaper men. We’ll have to make up a story——”
“We’ll do nothing of the kind. Tell them the truth, Uncle Fred. That I’m not—wanted. That I was kept—waiting—at the church. Like the heroine in a movie.”