XI
Next morning she was awakened by some sound she could not at first define, but which she presently identified as the remote ringing of the telephone bell. She listened. The servants would answer it, of course, but she wondered who could be calling the house so early in the day. Feeling very wide awake she slipped into her dressing-gown and slippers and went to the top of the stairs to listen. She heard Henry’s voice, downstairs in the hall.
“Yes, yes, hullo. Yes, I’m here. Is that you, darling? Sorry to ring you up at this hour, but later on every word I said would be overheard. Yes, infernally public.” He laughed softly. “No, I don’t suppose anyone ever uses this telephone for purposes they’d rather keep to themselves. Oh, all right, thanks. Pleased to see me? Yes, I think so. Look here, things are going to be deuced awkward. Well, she expects me to spend most of my time here—Yes, an awful bore—Oh, well, it’s natural enough, I suppose. Five years, and all that, don’t you know. Well, but what am I to say? Can’t be too brutal, can one?—Oh, bored stiff in two days, of course, I simply don’t know what to do about it. Besides, I’m dying to get back to you.—Yes, silly, of course.—I wish you’d help, Isabel. Tell me what to say to the old lady.—No, she seems to take it quite for granted. Oh, all the year round, with an occasional week in London.—I can’t say I think it in the least funny.—Well, of course, if I was a downright brute....”
Mrs. Martin turned and went back into her bedroom. She shut the door very gently behind her. Presently she heard Henry come upstairs and go into his room.