Got out for a breath of air." The silence
that followed this observation seemed to call for further
explanations. "Miss Thursdale retired soon after dinner, wretchedly
under the weather. That rather left me adrift, don't you know. I'm not
playing bridge this year."
"You're not? Why not, pray?"
"Chiefly because of last year. My Mercedes came on from New York
yesterday and I got her out for a spin. Couldn't resist, don't you
know. She's working beautifully."
"There's one thing about a Mercedes that I don't like--and you don't
find it in a Panhard. I've got a Panhard and--" Dobson was saying with
all the arrogance of a motor fiend, when Mrs. Scudaway ruthlessly and
properly cut him off.
"We know all about your Panhard, Dobby. Don't bother. Is Eleanor
really ill, Mr. Windomshire?"
"I had it from her own lips, Mrs. Scudaway."
"Oh, you know what I mean. Is it likely to be serious?"
"Really, I can't say. I offered to go and fetch the doctor in my car,
but she assured me she'd be all right in the morning. What say, Mr.
Dauntless?"
"I didn't speak, Mr. Windomshire."
"I thought you did." More than one at the table had heard Joe's
involuntary chuckle.
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