He hesitated for a moment longer; then pulled himself slowly erect and limped with the resolute fixity of ill temper to the cloak-room. I picked up the paper and was beginning to read it, when he limped back with his coat and cap on, buttoning his gloves.
"If Mrs. O'Rane turns up while you're here, give her that, will you?" he said, throwing an open envelope on the table. "You might say that I've gone on."
Protruding from the envelope was a theatre ticket.
"Aren't you dining?" I asked.
"I had a whiskey and soda while I was waiting," he answered. "Can't hang about indefinitely, you know. It's Eric Lane's new play. The thing starts at eight of all ungodly hours, and I want to see some of the show." I thought it unnecessary to remind him that we had met at the identical theatre some ten days before. "If a woman can't have the decency to come in time—Ah!"
He interrupted himself as Mrs. O'Rane came in, stood looking round for a moment and hurried forward, smiling at two or three friends on the way.
"You were very nearly late," she said, nodding at his cap. "If I'd had to wait—Well, I suppose Mr. Stornaway would have taken pity on me, however much he hates me. The spectacle of a young distressed female simply fainting for a cocktail—did you remember to order my special cocktail?" she asked Grayle.
"You are late," he observed, without regard to her question.
"I? But that's too abominable! If you're not going to be sweet to me, I shall go straight home and never speak to you again. Late, indeed! I didn't get home till after seven, but I had a hot bath and dressed and disposed of four people on the telephone, all by seven-thirty——"