"No, thanks," interposed Mr. Blithers. "I'm as clean as a whistle. Don't mind me, please. Run along and dress, both of you. I'll sit out here and—count the minutes," the last with a very elaborate bow to Mrs. King.
"Dinner's at half-past eight," said she, and disappeared. Mr. Blithers recalled his last glance at his watch, and calculated that he would have at least fifty minutes to count, provided dinner was served promptly on the dot.
"You will excuse me if I leave you—"
"Don't mention it, old man," said the new guest, rather more curtly than he intended. "I'll take it easy."
"Shall I have the butler telephone to Blitherwood to say that you won't be home to dinner?"
"It would be better if he were to say that I wasn't home to dinner," said Mr. Blithers. "It's over by this time."
"Something to drink while you're—"
"No, thanks. I can wait," and he sat down.
"You don't mind my—"
"Not at all."