Over teacups there were waging gossip and argument and criticism. When
Carley entered with Beatrice there was a sudden hush and then a murmur.
"Hello, Carley! Now say it to our faces," called out Geralda Conners, a
fair, handsome young woman of thirty, exquisitely gowned in the latest
mode, and whose brilliantly tinted complexion was not the natural one of
health.
"Say what, Geralda?" asked Carley. "I certainly would not say anything
behind your backs that I wouldn't repeat here."
"Eleanor has been telling us how you simply burned us up."
"We did have an argument. And I'm not sure I said all I wanted to."
"Say the rest here," drawled a lazy, mellow voice. "For Heaven's sake,
stir us up. If I could get a kick out of anything I'd bless it."
"Carley, go on the stage," advised another. "You've got Elsie Ferguson
tied to the mast for looks. And lately you're surely tragic enough."
"I wish you'd go somewhere far off!" observed a third. "My husband is
dippy about you."
"Girls, do you know that you actually have not one sensible idea in your
heads?" retorted Carley.
"Sensible? I should hope not. Who wants to be sensible?"
Geralda battered her teacup on a saucer. "Listen," she called. "I wasn't
kidding Carley. I am good and sore. She goes around knocking everybody
and saying New York backs Sodom off the boards. I want her to come out
with it right here."
"I dare say I've talked too much," returned Carley. "It's been a rather
hard winter on me. Perhaps, indeed, I've tried the patience of my
friends."
"See here, Carley," said Geralda, deliberately, "just because you've had
life turn to bitter ashes in your mouth you've no right to poison it for
us. We all find it pretty sweet. You're an unsatisfied woman and if you
don't marry somebody you'll end by being a reformer or fanatic."
"I'd rather end that way than rot in a shell," retorted Carley.
"I declare, you make me see red, Carley," flashed Geralda, angrily. "No
wonder Morrison roasts you to everybody. He says Glenn Kilbourne threw
you down for some Western girl. If that's true it's pretty small of you
to vent your spleen on us."
Carley felt the gathering of a mighty resistless force, But Geralda
Conners was nothing to her except the target for a thunderbolt.