Mary covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "He's gone to work. Janet wants to know if you'd like him to look in this evening."
"Oh, he's gone to work, has he?" said Ermyntrude wrathfully. "And no more thought for me lying here in the dark than that bed-post! Not so much as a note, or a message, either!"
Janet says he told her she was to call this morning, and leave cards."
"What's the good of cards?" demanded Ermyntrude. "I don't want her cards! I don't want her either, if it comes to that, for though I'm sure I've nothing against the girl, she frets me to death, and if there is a time when I might expect to have my nerves considered, it's now!"
Mary made frantic signs to her to be quiet, and tried to tell Janet that Ermyntrude was not up to receiving visitors. Janet said: "I thought as I was the last person who saw him alive, she'd like me to come and tell her just how he died."
"No, I don't think that would be very desirable," said Mary.
"I thought it might be a comfort to her," said Janet. "I'm certain he didn't suffer at all. It was over in an instant. One moment I was standing looking at him-'
"Look here, Janet, not over the telephone!" begged Mary.
"No, of course not. I'll come over and tell you all about it, and it'll sort of set your mind at rest."
"Thank you," said Mary faintly.