Freeling made a motion to rise, but Mrs. Dinneford did not stir.
“Perhaps,” he said, “you decide at once to let things take their course. Understand me, I am ready for either alternative. The election is with yourself.”
Mrs. Dinneford was too much stunned by all this to be able to come to any conclusion. She seemed in the maze of a terrible dream, full of appalling reality. To wait for twenty-four hours in this state of uncertainty was more than her thoughts could endure. And yet she must have time to think, and to get command of her mental resources.
“Will you be disengaged at five o'clock?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I will be here at five.”
“Very well.”
Mrs. Dinneford arose with a weary air.
“I shall want to hear from you very explicitly,” she said. “If your demand is anywhere in the range of reason and possibility, I may meet it. If outside of that range, I shall of course reject it. It is possible that you may not hold all the winning cards—in fact, I know that you do not.”
“I will be here at five,” said Freeling.