Mrs. Durlacher deftly changed the subject.
"I've got a box to-morrow night, Jack, at some theatre or other," she said casually. "Harold's going out to dinner, will you dine with us and drag us along there?"
"Who's us?"
"Miss Standish-Roe and myself. We shall be all alone if you don't."
Sally's face rose in Traill's mind. If he went, this would be the first evening, except for those engagements which his profession demanded, on which he would have left her to dine at a restaurant by herself. But was he bound? Not in the least! The consideration that it might even seem to an outsider, decided him.
"Yes, I'll come," he said. "What time dinner?"
Again there was exultation in the heart of Mrs. Durlacher.
"Better be seven-thirty," she said.
He agreed. It never suggested itself to him that he wanted to go. He hated to seem bound. That was his reason. So he took it with an open mind, questioning nothing.
When he had gone, Mrs. Durlacher turned to her friend.