"Good evening, Mrs. Hammond. I told Dr. Hammond I'd let him have this outline when it was finished." "Won't you come in, Miss Partridge?" Catherine heard Charles coming. He lounged beside her, hands in pockets. "No, thank you. I just brought this outline, Dr. Hammond." She handed him the envelope. There was a moment of silence, in which Catherine felt a tugging at her will, as if Charles tried to bend her to some thought of his. She glanced at him, still sulky. "I have it," she said. "Why don't you take Miss Partridge to your show, Charles? If she would like it. Have you seen 'Liliom,' Miss Partridge?" "Letty is indisposed," said Charles, "thus interfering, after the fashion of children, with her parents' plans." "Can't I stay with her?" Miss Partridge opened her dark eyes very wide. "Mrs. Hammond is punctilious." Catherine withdrew a step. If Charles added another word--she could hear the rest of his sentence, about her leaving them all day! But he merely added, "Would you care to go, Miss Partridge?" "Ought you to leave Mrs. Hammond, if the baby is ill?" "It's always a relief to be rid of a disappointed man, Miss Partridge." Catherine was thinking: how disdainful that cold, hard voice makes her words sound! "Letty isn't seriously ill, but I want the doctor to look at her. I shall be happier here." Miss Partridge seated herself in the living room, and Catherine, after a glance at Letty, and a moment of search for the tie Charles wished, sat down opposite her. She was charming to look at, Catherine realized; a soft, fawn colored suit, exquisitely tailored over her slender, sloping shoulders; a long brown wing across the smart fawn hat, a knot of orange at her throat. She drew off her wrinkled long gloves, and revealed a heavy topaz on her little finger. "Your work, Mrs. Hammond? You are finding it interesting?" "Very." Catherine felt as expansive as an exposed clam. "Mr. Hammond was saying you had some kind of educational research in hand." "Yes." Was that Letty, crying? Charles came in, rubbing his sleeve over his hat. "I don't need glad rags, do I, since you aren't in evening dress?" "No gladder than those." Miss Partridge rose. Catherine stood at the living room door, listening for the sound of the elevator. Charles came rushing back. "You're sure you'll be all right?" That was his little flicker of contrition. "I don't like to leave you this way, but the tickets might as well be used." "Have a good time." Catherine kissed him lightly. "Wish it was you, going!" He was in fine fettle again, offering a small oblation before his departure. * * * * * Letty woke, complaining that she wanted a drink. Catherine sat beside her, smoothing the silky fair hair, until she slept again. Her forehead didn't feel so parched. But Catherine went to the telephone and called Henrietta. Bill answered.