The telephone enabled him to make a hasty reservation on the biggest and fastest of them all.
He had just concluded that business and was waiting with his hand on the receiver to call up Ember and announce his departure, when the door-bell interrupted. Expecting the waiter to remove the breakfast things, he went to the door, threw it open, and turned back instantly to the telephone. As his fingers closed round the receiver a second time, he looked round and saw his wife....
His hand fell to his side. Otherwise he did not move. But his glance was that of one incuriously comprehending the existence of a stranger.
The woman met it fairly and fearlessly, with her head high and her lips touched with a trace of her shadowy, illegible smile. She was dressed for walking, very prettily and perfectly. There were roses in her cheeks: a healthful glow distinguishable even in the tempered light of the hallway. Her self-possession was faultless.
After a moment she inclined her head slightly. "The hall-boys said you were busy on the telephone. I insisted on coming directly up. I wish very much to see you for a few moments. Do you mind?"
"By no means," he said, a little stiffly but quite calmly. "If you will be good enough to come in—"
He stood against the wall to let her pass. For a breath she was too close to him: he felt his pulses quicken faintly to the delicate and indefinite perfume of her person. But it was over in an instant: she had passed into the living-room. He followed, grave, collected, aloof.
"I had to come this morning," she explained, turning. "This afternoon we have a rehearsal...."
He bowed an acknowledgment. "Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you." Seated, she subjected him to a quick, open appraisal, disarming in its naïve honesty.