To her experienced eyes the situation contained all the necessary elements for the customary flight of the heroine in her story-books, as here, now, was the irate, deserted husband.
"Sure! And 'twas just before you came--quite a while before.

A big shiny black automobile like this drove up--only it wasn't quite such a nice one--an' Mrs.Henshaw an' a man came out of your house an' got in, an' drove right away _quick!_ They just ran to get into it, too--didn't they ?" She appealed to her young mates grouped about her.
A chorus of shrill exclamations brought Mr.Bertram Henshaw suddenly to his senses.

By a desperate effort he hid his angry annoyance as he turned to the manifestly embarrassed young woman who was already descending the steps.
"My dear Miss Winthrop," he apologized contritely, "I'm sure you'll forgive this seeming great rudeness on the part of my wife.
Notwithstanding the lurid tales of our young friends here, I suspect nothing more serious has happened than that my wife has been hastily summoned to Aunt Hannah, perhaps.

Or, of course, she may not have understood that you were coming to-day at half-past three--though I thought she did.

But I'm so sorry--when you were so kind as to come--" Miss Winthrop interrupted with a quick gesture.
"Say no more, I beg of you," she entreated.