She could not know. He hung up the receiver. The day stretched out before him, blank.
But it passed, of course. And Hilda, having slept her allotted number of hours, was up in time to superintend the serving of the General's dinner. Later, Derry stopped at the door to say that he was going to the theater and might be called there. The General, propped against his pillows and clothed in a gorgeous mandarin coat, looked wrinkled and old. The ruddiness had faded from his cheeks, and he was much thinner.
Hilda, sitting by the little table, showed all the contrast of youth and bloom. Her long hands lay flat on the table. Derry had a fantastic feeling, as if a white cat watched him under the lamp.
"Are you going alone, son?" the General asked.
"Yes."
"Why don't you take a girl?" craftily.
Derry smiled.
"The only girl I should care to take is out of town."
The white cat purred. "Lucky girl to be the only one."
Derry's manner stiffened. "You are good to think so."