It was Lucy Hitchcock, who lived next door. “Hi!” she said with slightly alcoholic jubilation in her voice. “Could you and Tom come over for cocktails tomorrow night? Bob just got a wonderful raise, and we’re going to celebrate.” “Congratulations,” Betsy said. “We’ll be there.” “I’ve got to call twenty other people,” Lucy said. “Good-by!” Filled with sudden distaste, Betsy put the telephone down. In this invitation tendered so late in the evening to a party for the celebration of an increase in salary received by the host, Betsy found concentrated everything she disliked about Greentree Avenue. The intensity of her displeasure surprised her, and long after she had gone to bed, she lay awake trying to analyze it. It’s not that I’m a snob–it’s more than that, she thought fiercely. There are all kinds of reasons. Slowly she counted them off. The first reason the invitation annoyed her was that she felt obligated to accept it. She and Tom had already declined invitations to two of the Hitchcocks’ parties, and Lucy would interpret a third refusal as a slight, regardless of what excuse were given.
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