Dimple said, hanging up the receiver, and Annie knew by her expression that something was terribly wrong. “I’ll come with you,” she said, her hand on the doorknob. Phoebe Chadwick sighed. “You might as well tell me what’s going on. I’m not deaf and blind, you know. It has something to do with that young Japanese doctor, doesn’t it?” Dimple, reaching for her coat, darted a questioning look at Annie, and Annie, feeling as though they had nothing to lose, nodded. “Better grab your coat, dear,” Miss Dimple said to her old friend. “We’ll tell you all about it on the way. And just to put things straight, she happens to be American.” * * * Annie was breathless by the time they arrived at Virginia’s little gray bungalow on Myrtle Street, and Phoebe, she noticed, had difficulty keeping up with their hurried pace. Miss Dimple, however, although noticeably distressed, seemed as fit and hardy as usual.
