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Every one of them had a husband of her own, hadn't she? And they were
happily married, too. Well, then ...!
She found Violet Williamson in Frederica's box at the Symphony concert
one Friday afternoon, and took them both home to tea with her afterward.
And when the talk fairly got going, she tossed her problem about Bertie
Willis and his _hareem_ into the vortex to see what would come of it.
It was always easy to talk with Frederica and Violet, there was so much
real affection under the amusement they freely expressed over her youth
and inexperience and simplicity. They always laughed at her, but they
came over and hugged her afterward.
"I'm turned out of the _hareem_," she said, apropos of the mention of
him, "in disgrace."
Violet wanted to know whatever in the world she had done to him.
"Because, he's been positively--what do you call it?--dithyrambic about
you for the last three months."
"I laughed," Rose acknowledged; "in the wrong place of course."
The two older women exchanged glances.


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