"I must think about this," she said. "Yes. I don't know how long it'll take me to tidy up things here.... Oh, I shall certainly be in London on Friday. David darling, you understand that I can't possibly get away at a moment's notice—any more than you can."
Her husband nodded.
"Come whenever it suits you," he said, as he walked on ahead to open the door for us.
Grayle lingered behind for a moment in the middle of the room.
"You mustn't stay on my account," he said to Mrs. O'Rane. "It won't be a party, you know."
There was a moment's silence; then she laughed provocatively and gave a mischievous, sideways glance at Beresford, which only Grayle and I saw.
"Jealous?" I heard.
"Not a bit. I shouldn't like you to come, though, if you were simply going to be bored."
"Oh, if you'd rather I didn't come, I won't."
I passed into the street and out of earshot. As I shook hands with O'Rane, Grayle joined us, and we walked towards the House on the look-out for a taxi. He was silent at first and then started to discuss the evening communiqué from the Front. I could not help wondering whether he, too, in middle-aged company under the penetrating chill of an autumn mist realised that it was beneath his dignity to be flirting with O'Rane's young wife and doubly ridiculous to be taking it seriously and devoting an evening's ill-humour to the enterprise.