“You're trembling,” he said, gravely.
“Yes. I'm angry enough to do more than tremble, you'll find. Go on!”
“That was all I was going to say the other day,” he said. “I was going to ask you—”
“Yes, that was all you were going to say THE OTHER DAY. Yes. What else have you to say to-night?”
“To-night,” he replied, with grim swiftness, “I want to know why you keep telephoning him you want to see him since he stopped coming here.”
She made a long, low sound of comprehension before she said, “And what else did Edith want you to ask me?”
“I want to know what you say over the telephone to Lamhorn,” he said, fiercely.
“Is that all Edith told you to ask me? You saw her when you stopped in there on your way home this evening, didn't you? Didn't she tell you then what I said over the telephone to Mr. Lamhorn?”
“No, she didn't!” he vociferated, his voice growing louder. “She said, 'You tell your wife to stop telephoning Robert Lamhorn to come and see her, because he isn't going to do it!' That's what she said! And I want to know what it means. I intend—”
A maid appeared at the lower end of the hall. “Dinner is ready,” she said, and, giving the troubled pair one glance, went demurely into the dining-room. Roscoe disregarded the interruption.