There passed among the three a series of cabalistic
signs. They rose simultaneously.
"How quaint you are!" exclaimed Mrs. Whalen, "and so
amusing! Come girls, we mustn't tire Miss--ah--Mrs.--
er--"with another meaning look at my bare left hand.
"My husband's name is still Orme," I prompted, quite,
quite pleasantly.
"Oh, certainly. I'm so forgetful. And one reads
such queer things in the newspapers nowa-days. Divorces,
and separations, and soul-mates and things." There was
a note of gentle insinuation in her voice.
Norah stepped firmly into the fray. "Yes, doesn't
one? What a comfort it must be to you to know that your
dear girls are safe at home with you, and no doubt will
be secure, for years to come, from the buffeting winds of
matrimony."
There was a tinge of purple in Mrs. Whalen's face as
she moved toward the door, gathering her brood about her.
"Now that dear Dawn is almost normal again I shall send
my little girlies over real often. She must find it very
dull here after her--ah--life in New York."
"Not at all," I said, hurriedly, "not at all. You
see I'm--I'm writing a book. My entire day is occupied."
"A book!" screeched the three. "How interesting! What
is it? When will it be published?"
I avoided Norah's baleful eye as I answered their
questions and performed the final adieux.
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