“And Howard approves of these mixed lunches, my dear? When I was young, husbands and wives usually went to parties together.”
A panicky thought came to Honora, that Mrs. Holt might suddenly inquire as to the whereabouts of Mr. Brent's wife.
“Oh, Howard doesn't mind,” she said hastily. “I suppose times have changed, Mrs. Holt. And after lunch we all went out in Mr. Brent's automobile to the Faunces' in Westchester—”
“The Paul Jones Faunces?” Mrs. Holt interrupted.
“What a nice woman that young Mrs. Faunce is! She was Kitty Esterbrook, you know. Both of them very old families.”
“It was only,” continued Honora, in desperation, “it was only to leave Mr. Grainger and Mrs. Kame there to spend the night. They all said we had plenty of time to go and get back to Quicksands by six o'clock. But coming back the automobile broke down—”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Holt, “it serves any one right for trusting to them. I think they are an invention of the devil.”
“And we've only just got back to New York this minute.”
“Who?” inquired Mrs. Holt.
“Mr. Brent and I,” said Honora, with downcast eyes.