And then, having been honest, she would hitch on to life again with a light heart, and neither Alice nor Gilbert could stand up and flick her conscience.

Martin would be happy.
To-morrow and to-morrow, and no Martin.
At the end of a week a letter was received by her mother from Grandmother Ludlow, in which, with a tinge of sarcasm, she asked that she might be honored by a visit of a few days, always supposing that trains still ran between New York and Peapack and gasolene could still be procured for privately owned cars.

And there was a postscript in these words.

"Perhaps you have the necessary eloquence to induce the athletic Mrs.Martin Gray to join you." The letter was handed to Joan across the luncheon table at the Plaza.
She read the characteristic effusion with keen amusement.

She could hear the old lady's incisive voice in every word and the tap of her stick across the hall as she laid the letter in the box.