She stood up from her seat and was about to leave the room when she heard the front door open, and in a second her husband's step.
Eden drew the portiére aside and looked out in the hall. Usselex had his back to her. He was taking off his overcoat. She spoke to him and he turned at once, one arm still unreleased. At last he freed himself and came to her.
"You got my note, did you not?" he began. "I am sorry about this evening. Could you not go to Mrs. Manhattan's without me? Something always seems to turn up at the last moment."
"I hardly expected you so early," Eden answered. "I sent word to Laura." She was looking at her husband, but her husband was not looking at her. He seemed preoccupied and nodded his head abstractedly.
"Yes, yes," he muttered, with singular inappositeness. "Yes, of course. But there," he added and turned again to the door, "I must hurry."
"Whom were you with this afternoon?" Eden asked.
It was as though she had checked him with a rein. He stopped at once and glanced at her.
"Did you see me?" he inquired; and accepting her silence for answer he continued at once: "It's a long story; I have hardly time to tell it now."
Eden put her hand on his sleeve. "Tell it me," she pleaded.
For the moment he stood irresolute. "Tell me," she repeated, and moved back, motioning him to a chair.