She flung herself on the prim little sofa, and stared at the closed door uncertainly. She was too proud to do what she wanted to do—invade the kitchen, and regardless of Roger's eyes and presence, confess to Elsbeth, and receive absolution. A word, she knew, would be enough.... If Elsbeth felt as miserable as she did—a word would be more than enough....
Elsbeth and Roger, returning to the sitting-room, ended her indecision. Their manner had changed—Roger was quieter—less talkative—but Elsbeth was so radiant that Alwynne decided that contrition could wait. More than ever she realised that two were company....
Her anger grew again as she watched and listened.
Elsbeth had produced cards, and suggested three-handed bridge. Alwynne excused herself, and Roger, who had been her partner on occasion at Dene, was obviously relieved. His Alwynne was the One Woman—but she could not play bridge!
He settled down to double-dummy with Elsbeth. The conversation became a rapt and technical duet, punctuated with interminable pauses.
Alwynne fumed.
So this was Elsbeth's idea of a really pleasant evening! Cards! Beastly, idiotic cards! Roger, her Roger, had come up all the way from Dene to play cards with Elsbeth! Had he just? All right then! He should have all the cards he wanted—and more! As for Elsbeth—catch Alwynne telling her she was sorry now!
The striking of the clock gave her her opportunity. She rose, yawning elaborately.
"I'm going to bed," she remarked to the card-table.
"Are you, dear?" said Elsbeth.