"Upon my word you're too good—I don't deserve such sacrifices," said Peter, who read in his kinsman's face that this was not a figure of speech but the absolute truth. "Didn't it, however, occur to you that, as it would turn out, I might—I even naturally would—myself be going?" he put forth.
Nick broke into a laugh. "It would have occurred to me if I understood a little better—!" But he paused, as still too amused.
"If you understood a little better what?"
"Your situation, simply."
Peter looked at him a moment. "Dine with me to-night by ourselves and at a club. We'll go to the theatre together and then you'll understand it."
"With pleasure, with pleasure: we'll have a jolly evening," said Nick.
"Call it jolly if you like. When did you say she was coming?" Peter asked.
"Biddy? Oh probably, as I tell you, at any moment."
"I mean the great Miriam," Peter amended.
"The great Miriam, if she's punctual, will be here in about forty minutes."