"Did you know then that he had been playing hard all day?" Bill asked me.
"Why, yes," I said honestly, "but I was thinking about something else, and—"
Bill's hand went out in an impatient gesture.
"Didn't you feel the heat?" he asked.
"I suppose so," I answered, "but I had been in the house all day—"
"And Peter hadn't!" he finished for me, somewhat irrelevantly, I thought.
I was silent.
"It's incredible," said my husband, with extreme irritation, "that you shouldn't have noticed."
"But—" I began, and stopped. It was true. I hadn't noticed; and it was equally true that the fact was incredible.
Conscious of my guilt, I was still able to be resentful of my husband's tone.