But the clock struck three, and after a startled glance thrown up at it, Mr. Gregory said softly, “Florence.”
“Yes?” his wife answered drearily, without moving; she did not even open her eyes.
The husband sighed remorsefully. “Dear, I’m afraid you’ll have to go.”
“Why?” she asked indifferently, as if the answer could not interest her, and still without moving her head or opening her eyes.
“Well, you see, I’ve made an appointment here at three—and it may, it just may, prove important, with—with a man.”
“Who?” Her voice was still devoid of interest.
“I expect Mr. Wu here.”
Before her husband had spoken the last word Mrs. Gregory was bolt upright in her chair, wide-eyed, alert—as if galvanized, revitalized, tense and acute.
“Mr. Wu?” she whispered eagerly.
“Yes,” he told her.