Then, without looking at him, she came back. Her shallow soul was dismayed.
"Dinner at 8.30?" he asked after a pause.
"Yuss. Good-bye till then, for I must fly and make some calls."
"Good-bye, Tony. You are sure that boy isn't coming? I—I am getting to hate him——"
"Nonsense," she laughed harshly, for she was not merry; "he isn't even invited. He is in the country, I tell you."
"Then, au 'voir."
"Au 'voir, Gerry."
He went away, feeling that his cause perhaps was not utterly hopeless.
And in her gaudy bedroom, in the caravanserai that had been her idea of luxury, his wife lay dead.