“Oh, no! Blair Hemming will drive me back.”
Lillian felt a vague resentment that the girl should be so sure.
“And don’t forget about to-morrow,” Blanche warned Wallie, bidding good-by, and left him wondering what had been to-morrow. Nothing had, but the words, as Blanche had wickedly foreseen, lingered in Mrs. Gueste’s mind, and vexed her.
“You have so many engagements, I wonder whether I shall see you at all,” she hinted, as he handed her into the runabout.
He flushed slightly. “Well,” he said, genially, as he took the reins, “you know there are mighty few of ’em I wouldn’t break for you, Lil.”
As they spun down the spongy asphalt of the boulevard, between the palms and electric-light poles, she was asking herself why it was that good, unsuspecting fellows like Wallie were always pounced upon by such women. She felt it was horrid to meddle, but this creature was so astonishingly impossible, and yet so overwhelming, that Wallie could hardly be expected to rescue himself. But she was cautious.
“Did you meet Miss Remi here, Wallie?” she asked him.
“Yes, at something at the country club.”
“Does she go there?”
“Why, of course. All the nice people go there.” He looked at her in lazy surprise.