THE OLD MAID
kept repeating to herself: “This is easy; but how am I going to tell Charlotte?”
When poor Joe, late that evening, wrung her hand with a stammered farewell, she called him back abruptly from the threshold.
“You must let me see her first, please; you must wait till she sends for you—” and she winced a little at the alacrity of his acceptance. But no amount of rhetorical bolstering-up could make it easy for a young man to face what lay ahead of Joe; and her final glance at him was one of compassion. . .
The front door closed upon Joe, and she was roused by her husband’s touch on her shoulder.
“I never admired you more, darling. My wise Delia!”
Her head bent back, she took his kiss,
[ 73 ]
