“Why, Stella,” he exclaimed, “I was thinking about you only this morning.”
The Drinkwaters and the McComases were close if not particularly spontaneous friends. Nothing but their husbands’ intimate association would have thrown the two women together, yet they were “Henry, Ted, Mollie, and Stella” to each other and in ten years scarcely a month had passed without their partaking in a superficially cordial family dinner. The dinner being over, each couple indulged in an unsparing post-mortem over the other without, however, any sense of disloyalty. They were used to each other—so Stella was somewhat surprised by Ted Drinkwater’s personal eagerness at meeting her this afternoon.
“I want to see you,” he said in his intent direct way. “Have you got a minute, Stella? Could you come into my of
