“No, Mrs. Ven. is in, Howard.”
“Now? You mean she is coming in to interrupt—”
“Oh no; she isn't fond of you, Howard.”
“You said—” he began almost angrily, but she laid her fingers across his lips.
“I said a very foolish thing, Howard. I said that I'd manage to dispense with Mrs. Ven. this evening.”
“You mean that you couldn't manage it?”
“Not at all; I could easily have managed it. But—I didn't care to.”
She looked at him calmly at close range as he held her embraced, lifted her arms and, with slender, white fingers patted her hair into place where his arm around her head had disarranged it, watching him all the while out of her pale, haunted eyes.
“You promised me,” he said, “that you—”
“Oh Howard! Do men still believe in promises?”