It was a well-known thing in that household that Nick required a long time to dress. He had come home from the office promptly at six and had gone at once to his room, where, as he had expected, his evening clothes were laid ready for him. He was to take Mrs. Allanby and Caroline to a dinner at the house of one of his senior partners, and it was an altogether particular and important occasion. Caroline was wearing a new dress, of which he thoroughly approved; she had been ready when he came home, so that he could see it and pass judgment. Mrs. Allanby was still dressing; she was, in spite of her fifty years, a lady of no little quiet coquetry, and on this occasion she had a two-fold desire to look her best, first, because she so valued her nephew’s approbation, and second because she was very anxious to impress upon the senior partner how excellent a family was Nick’s.
He had bathed and shaved, and was standing before the mirror in shirt and trousers, tying his white tie with severe attention, when someone knocked at his door. He was surprised, almost affronted.
“Well!” he called. “What is it?”
“It’s Ca’line!”
“I’m not late! It’s not half past seven yet....”
“No, Ah know it! But someone wants to speak to you on the telephone.”
“Who?”
“Ah don’t know.... A woman.... She wouldn’t tell her name. She said it was important. Shall Ah say you’re busy and can’t come?”
“No!” he said, hastily. “I’ll come!”
And just as he was, hurried into the little sewing room where the upstairs telephone was.