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Her bump of reverence was
very small.
But she felt a little thrill, as she always did, when she passed
the house. Since she could remember she had cared for Graham. She
did not actually know that she loved him. She told herself bravely
that she was awfully fond of him, and that it was silly, because he
never would amount to anything. But she had a little argument of
her own, for such occasions, which said that being really fond of
any one meant knowing all about them and liking them anyhow.
She stopped the car at the Hayden house, and carried her note to
the door. When she went in, however, she was instantly uncomfortable.
The place reeked with smoke, and undeniably there was dancing going
on somewhere. A phonograph was scraping noisily. Delight's small
nose lifted a little. What a deadly place! Coming in from the fresh
outdoors, the noise and smoke and bar-room reek stifled her.
Then a door opened, and Marion Hayden was drawing her into a room.
"How providential, Delight!" she said.


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