Under the grotesque figure of his speech, Anne felt Roger's anger. He now hated Hilary Wainwright with a personal bitterness Anne had not believed in him. After a little, she asked quietly:
"When's this meeting coming off?"
"To-morrow night. The invitations went out days ago; off-hand, 'comradely' notes to the labor people; beseeching little appeals to the Russell Sagers, et al. 'to help out'; I didn't see those to the company directors; he managed them himself."
Again there was a short silence, filled to Anne with cold little puffs of anxiety blowing from beyond the warm security of their pretty rooms.
"Can outsiders go, Roger? There wouldn't be any real objection, would there?"
"Why, no. I don't see that there would. Why?"
"I'd like to go."
"Really?" Roger turned to her, his eyes full of a pleased surprise that hurt Anne a little.
"Of course I would. It sounds interesting."
"Interesting? Yes, it will be interesting as a psychological problem—a kind of clinic for studying the blind stupidity of Hilary Wainwright and his kind. It may be rough, too. I wouldn't answer for Black Tom O'Connell—if he comes."