"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.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed the elder lady.
"I couldn't think of anything else to do but come straight here to you," said Honora, gazing at her friend. "And oh, I'm so glad to find you. There's not another train to Quicksands till after nine."
"You did quite right, my dear, under the circumstances. I don't say you haven't been foolish, but it's Howard's fault quite as much as yours. He has no business to let you do such things."
"And what makes it worse," said Honora, "is that the wires are down to Quicksands, and I can't telephone Howard, and we have people to dinner, and they don't know I went to Westchester, and there's no use telegraphing: it wouldn't be delivered till midnight or morning."