In a taxi, extravagant young de
vil!”
"I can't marry him on Thurs
day” !
Mrs. Lodely’s jerking movement
sent a vase slithering off a what
not.
“I’ve something I want to tell
you,” she said, “about you and
Mark. Something to do with —
money.”
"What money, Judy?”
On many and many a night
when her troubled thoughts had
merged into troubled sleep, Mrs.
Lodely had dreamed that Barbara
Quentin refused, at the last, to
marry Mark. In the dream there
had followed a sharp fear and
then the decision to speak. ‘Babs,
i you'll marry him, there will be
money. A lo; of money,' So fa
miliar had the give and take of
the dream become that it had by
its very familiarity, betrayed her.
3etrayed her, for, as Barbara's
eyes opened and fastened them
selves upon her, she grasped her
mistake. Barbara had not meant
that she refused to marry Mark.
