Phyllis stamped her small foot petulantly. “Can’t you see, Philip,” she cried, “that it will be impossible for me to live with Charlie when he comes back?”
“No, I can’t!” snapped Philip.
It was just when this last sentence in this particular interview had been uttered, that Dan himself came in unannounced.
He smiled as he saw the receding skirt passing through the door which led to another room.
“I am not going to make a visitation, old man,” said Dan breezily. “Just looked in to say ‘How-do-you-do’ and be off.”
“Sit down and have a smoke,” said Philip, “you can’t be in a hurry.”
“It is awfully good of you,” replied Dan (who was inwardly admiring what he thought was the mastery of hospitality over inclination), “but I must get back. Mr. Burns and I are going over to Winchelsea after luncheon, and I must cycle back quickly.”
“Now I shall have to stop longer or I shall overtake him,” said Phyllis, who had emerged from the inner room as soon as she heard Dan depart.
Philip yawned. He was getting a little tired of the business.
“Wait half an hour then,” he said.