He searched about vainly for his patent boots, which were in an obvious position. It added to his annoyance and irritability.
“Why can’t she stay at home and look after me? I can’t find a single damn thing. I beg your pardon, mother.... Women’s place is in the home.... Now where on earth——”
He resumed his search for the very obvious patent boots and at last discovered them.
“Oh, there they are!”
He glanced at the clock, and expressed the opinion that he would be late for the club if he did not “look sharp.” Then a little tragedy happened, and he gave a grunt of dismay when a bootlace broke.
“Oh, my hat! Why doesn’t Clare look after my things properly?”
Mrs. Heywood asked another question, ignoring the broken bootlace.
“Need you go to the club to-night, Herbert?”
Herbert was both astonished and annoyed at this remark.
“Of course I must. It’s Friday night and the one little bit of Bohemianism I get in the week. Why not?”