And she, demurely: “My At Home day is on second Sundays.”
And they laughed into each other’s eyes—excellent friends.
III
So perhaps for the first time in her life, Deb had definitely underlined a previous decision, instead of cancelling it. In marrying Samson, she was “being good”; in her refusal to lapse from fidelity, she was still “being good”.... Incredible! Her pleased and proud astonishment had hardly subsided, when her husband returned late the following afternoon.
“I rang up last night, trunk call, just to see if the little woman was all right without me,” he remarked fondly, over the fish; “it was about nine o’clock, but the line must have been out of order—I couldn’t get a reply.”
“I daresay the line was all right, but cook was out, and I simply can’t get Annie to realise that the ’phone isn’t a wild beast. She was probably cowering under the kitchen table, while it rang.”
“But you would have answered it if it had rung?”
“No—I was at Marty’s.”
“Not at nine o’clock. I dropped in just now to see Abe on business, and he said you didn’t turn up till twenty-five minutes past ten, because of some mistake in a message. If you were at home and didn’t hear the ’phone bell yourself, you shouldn’t be so quick to blame Annie. I believe in being just with servants, Deb. Or—weren’t you at home?”
She lost her bearings. “Oh ... I don’t know....”