“My dear,” said the other, “it’s because he came in a special train.”
“He came?” repeated Sylvia, puzzled.
And her friend stared at her. “Good Lord,” she said, “I believe you really don’t know that Mr. van Tuiver’s in town!”
Sylvia started as if she had been struck. “Mr. van Tuiver in town!” she gasped.
“Why, surely, honey—he’s been here three or four days. How they must be taking care of you!”
Sylvia sprang to her feet. “How perfectly outrageous!” she cried.
“What, Sunny? That you haven’t seen him?”
“Harriet, stop joking with me!”
“But I’m not joking with you,” said Harriet, bewildered. “What in the world is the matter?”
Sylvia’s face was pale with anger. “I won’t see him! I won’t see him! He has no right to come here!”