'It's getting on for half-past seven,' said Wemyss. 'We've got to leave the house at nine sharp, mind.'
Was it possible that she wouldn't leave the house at nine sharp? The thought that she wouldn't was too exasperating to consider. He go up to London alone? On this the first occasion of going up after his marriage? He be alone in Lancaster Gate, just as if he hadn't a wife at all? What was the good of a wife if she didn't go up to London with one? And all this to come upon him because of her conduct on his birthday.
'Well,' he said, sitting up in bed and looking down at her, 'I hope you're pleased with the result of your behaviour.'
But it was no use saying things to somebody who merely made husky noises.
He got out of bed and jerked up the blinds. 'Such a beautiful day, too,' he said indignantly.
When at a quarter to nine the station cab arrived, he went up to the bedroom hoping that he would find her after all dressed and sensible and ready to go, but there she was just as he had left her when he went to have his breakfast, dozing and inert in the tumbled bed.
'You'd better follow me by the afternoon train,' he said, after staring down at her in silence. 'I'll tell the cab. But in any case,' he said, as she didn't answer, 'in any case, Lucy, I expect you to-morrow.'
She opened her eyes and looked at him languidly.
'Do you hear?' he said.
She made a husky noise.