"Nine o'clock last night."
"But"—she checked herself—"I simply can't understand it, that's all!"
"Why? Have you seen him since the other afternoon?"
His manner might have explained those other two remarks, now bothering her when it was too late to notice them; on the other hand, she was by no means sure that it did. He might simply dislike Toye, and that again might explain his extraordinary heat over the argument at Littleford. Blanche began to feel the air somewhat heavily charged with explanations, either demanded or desired; they were things she hated, and she determined not to add to them if she could help it.
"I haven't set eyes on him again," she said. "But he's been seen here—in a taxi."
"Who saw him?"
"Martha—if she's not mistaken."
This was a little disingenuous, as will appear; but that impetuous Sweep was in a merciful hurry to know something else.
"When was this, Blanche?"
"Just about dark—say seven or so. She owns it was about dark," said Blanche, though she felt ashamed of herself.