Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/167

Rh "You'd think from the way he acts such a thing as a marriage ceremony had never taken place between him and me."

"Mother," Laurel interrupted—she must change the subject somehow—"I've learned to use a shotgun."

"I hope, Laurel," Stella went right on, "you'll have more respect for the promises you make, than your father seems to."

Laurel made another desperate attempt.

"Oh, mother," she exclaimed brightly, "I saw that lovely lady again in New York."

She was successful this time.

"What lovely lady?" asked Stella.

Laurel had been too busy so far answering her mother's questions as to what restaurants and theaters she had visited in New York to tell her about Mrs. Morrison.

"The lovely lady who gave me my silver pencil."

"Oh, yes, you met her at afternoon tea last year. I remember. You said she had on black broadcloth with broad-tail trimming then. What did she wear this time?"

"She isn't wearing black at all this year, but palish colors when she dresses up that you think are white until you see her up against a white wall or something, and then you see they aren't. They're usually pale yellow, or faint blue. She never wears pink."

"Good gracious, how many different rigs did you see this person in?"

"Oh, lots!"

She had not referred to Mrs. Morrison in her