He looked up, mildly surprised at my vehemence.
"Where the devil do you suppose Thusis is?" I asked.
"In Zurich, isn't she?"
"Yes, but she's been gone a long time and she ought to be back."
"Probably," he said, "she's gallivanting with some handsome young fellow along the Lake promenade. Possibly she's lunching at the Baur-au-Lac with some fascinating lieutenant. Or maybe they've strolled over to the Café de la Terrasse or to Rupps; or," he went on as though interested in his irritating speculations, "it may be that Thusis has gone out in a motor launch with some sprightly cavalier; or she may be at the Tonhalle, or at Belvoir Park."
"No doubt," said I, exasperated. "You needn't speculate further."
"Business over, why shouldn't Thusis kick up her pretty heels a bit?" he inquired.
"Because Thusis isn't that sort."
"How do you know that she isn't that sort?"
I didn't, and his question made me the madder.