(The lie had been necessary. It was only a detail. It mustn’t blind her to the real issue.)
She entered softly and found her husband standing before the fire plunged in gloomy thoughts. Upon the marble mantel-shelf behind him was a little glass; he had been sipping port in spite of the express prohibition of his doctor and the wine had reddened the veins of his eyes and variegated the normal pallor of his countenance with little flushed areas. “Hel-lo,” he said looking up suddenly as she closed the door behind her.
For a moment there was something in their two expressions like that on the faces of men about to box.
“I want you to understand,” she said, and then; “The way you behaved——”
There was an uncontrollable break in her voice. She had a dreadful feeling that she might be going to cry. She made a great effort to be cold and clear.
“I don’t think you have a right—just because I am your wife—to control every moment of my time. In fact you haven’t. And I have a right to make engagements.... I want you to know I am going to an afternoon meeting at Lady Beach-Mandarin’s. Next week. And I have promised to go to Miss Alimony’s to tea.”
“Go on,” he encouraged grimly.
“I am going to Lady Viping’s to dinner, too; she asked me and I accepted. Later.”
She stopped.
He seemed to deliberate. Then suddenly he thrust out a face of pinched determination.