“And what do you think of that!” cried Hy. “What do you think of that!... Damn women, anyway! They don't play the game. They're not square.”... He was clenching and unclenching his hands. Suddenly he reached for the telephone.
But just as his hand closed on it, the bell rang.
Hy snatched up the receiver. “Yes!” he cried shortly—“Yes! Yes! He lives here. Wait a moment, please. It's for you, Fete.”
Peter sprang out of bed and hurried to the instrument.
“Yes,” said he, “this is Mr. Mann.”
“Peter, it's Sue—Sue Wilde.”
“Oh—hello! I was going to call up myself in a few minutes. How have you been?”
“Not awfully fit. This constant rehearsing seems to be on my nerves, or something.”
There was a pause. Hy went off into the bedroom to get out of his travel-stained clothes.
“I wanted to say, Peter—I've been thinking it all over—”