And then, when she had extinguished the gas, and the oriental sleeve of her silk nightgown delicately brushed Hilda's face, as she got into bed, she remarked:
"Strange that Edwin Clayhanger should call just to-night!"
Hilda's cheek warmed.
"He asked me to go and look over their printing-works to-morrow," said she quickly.
Janet was taken aback.
"Really!" she exclaimed, unmistakably startled. She spoke a second too soon. If she had delayed only one second, she might have concealed from Hilda that which Hilda had most plainly perceived, to wit, anxiety and jealousy. Yes, jealousy, in this adorably benevolent creature's tone. Hilda's interest in to-morrow afternoon was intensified.
"Shall you be able to come?" she asked.
"What time?"
"He said about half-past six, or a quarter to seven."
"I can't," said Janet dreamily, "because of that Musical Society meeting--you know--I told you, didn't I?"