He left her, joining a hurrying throng of other young men wearing soft hats and carrying little brown bags, nearly all of them hastening towards the City.
Elsie proceeded by train and tram to the house of Irene’s father.
Her friend opened the door to her. “Hullo! I thought I should see you. That hubby of yours is on the warpath.”
“What’s happened?”
“Oh, nothing, thanks to me! Come in, Elsie. Have you had breakfast?”
“I’ve had some tea; I don’t want anything else. Tell me about Horace.”
“Well, Horace, as you call him, saw fit to come round here at eleven o’clock p.m. last night, and got me out of my virtuous downy by ringing at the front door bell till I thought the house was on fire. He said he’d ‘come for’ his wife, if you please!”
“I know. I told him I was going to spend the night at your place,” said Elsie calmly. “I suppose you didn’t happen to tumble to it, Ireen?”
“I’ve not known you all these years for nothing, old girl,” said Irene, grinning. “What do you take me for? I told him you were in bed and asleep, and had been for hours.”
“You’re a real sport, Ireen! How did he take it?”