“Toll to convention,” she answered. “Besides, what would Edith say?”
That was a poser. Who in thunder was Edith? But I felt that I was on the right track. “As for Edith,” I returned, “I don’t believe she would object.”
She shook her head wisely. “Well, per-haps not. But even ten years’ friendship has its breaking point. And a wife——” She stopped there. She seemed to be considering the question.
“Doesn’t it depend upon who is the wife?” I interpolated. Now I should learn if it was really I who was married.
“Yes,” she admitted. “But yours! Oh, I know Edith! Better even than you do. I knew her long before you had even heard of her, and I could have told you things which would have been—useful to you—if only you had come to me first.”
The thought was alluring. “I wish I had,” I said, with more fervor than discretion.
She turned upon me quickly, and her face was very close to my own for an instant. Through the veil I managed to get a glimpse of her eyes. They pleased me immensely. “Why? Why? What do you mean?” she asked. There was a soft little lift to her voice which affected me queerly. I made sure that some part of me had made a short circuit with one of the battery wires. Then she lifted her chin. “But—nonsense!” she said. “How could you? I was in a convent school when you met and married Edith.”
“And you haven’t seen her since?”
“Since she was married? You know I haven’t, you goose! Why, it is tonight I make my entrée into the world of fashion?”
“At Agawan,” I hazarded.