"You are very good," he said stiffly. "What do you say, Nina? Do you feel up to the theatre?"
Nina's colour also was very high. But her eyes looked softer than usual. She turned to her husband.
"Couldn't you come, too, for once, Hereford?" she asked. "We were thinking of the theatre. It—it would be nice if you came too."
The falter in the last sentence betrayed the fact that she was nervous.
Wingarde smiled faintly, contemptuously, as he made reply.
"Really, that's very kind of you," he said. "But I am compelled to plead a prior engagement. You will be home by midnight, I suppose?"
Archie made an abrupt movement. For a second he hovered on the verge of an indignant outburst. The man's manner, rather than his words, was insufferable. But in that second he met Wingarde's eyes, and something he saw there checked him. He pulled himself together and somewhat awkwardly took his leave.
Wingarde saw him off, with the scoffing smile upon his lips. When he returned to the drawing-room Nina was on her feet, waiting for him. She was still unusually pale, and her eyes were very bright. She wore a restless, startled look, as though her nerves were on the stretch.
Wingarde glanced at her.
"You had better go and lie down till dinner," he said.