'Somehow it's not so bad, coming from you,' she said.
In an instant he was sitting by her. 'Now I'll tell you what we did this afternoon.'
'You and Peggy Ryle? I'm jealous of Peggy Ryle!'
'A sound instinct, in this case misapplied,' commented Airey. 'Now just you listen.'
The sound of song had ceased. Were all sounds equally able to penetrate doors and cross passages, quite another would have struck on Trix's ears. Peggy was yawning vigorously—while Tommy was trying to find patience in a cigar.
'Where had you been going to dine?' asked Peggy, referring to the meal as a bright but bygone possibility.
'I had been going to have a chop at the club,' murmured Tommy sadly.
'That doesn't help me much,' observed Peggy. 'And I suppose you're going to begin about that wretched promise again? I'm tired to death, but I'll sing again if you do.'
'I've expressed my sentiments. I don't want to rub it in.'