She found no opening.
Dick had gone to Matthew’s house for dinner, so he telephoned. “We didn’t get through in time at the office,” he explained, “and I thought I’d drop off here and finish what I wanted to take up with him. Children all right?”
“Quite.” She hung up the receiver. It would have been just as easy to come home, but he didn’t want to come especially. He wanted to go to Matthew’s house. She sat through her dinner, which seemed perfectly tasteless.
That night she waited up for Dick, conscious that it was not what he would wish. He came in humming a little. She tried to look casual and succeeded in looking tragic—so tragic that the blithe smile on his face faded quickly into an annoyed concern.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just thought I’d read a while.”
“You should be in bed. It’s nearly midnight.”
“I know.”
“Sure nothing’s wrong?”
“No.”