“Well, dear,” she said, “have you seen the church-warden part they have given your hair?”
He shook his head impatiently, and she saw she had made the mistake of trying to give the tone to an interview in which she was not the leading character.
“Who has the room above mine, Adelaide?” he asked.
“My maid.”
“Ask her not to practice the fox-trot, will you?”
“O Vincent, she is never there.”
“My mistake,” he answered, and shut his eyes.
She repented at once.
“Of course I’ll tell her. I’m sorry that you were disturbed.” But she was thinking only of his tone. He was not an irritable man, and he had never used such a tone to her before. All pleasure in the interview was over. She was actually glad when one of the nurses came in and began to move about the room in a manner that suggested dismissal.
“Of course I’m not angry,” she said to herself. “He’s so weak one must humor him like a child.”