The little dinner was a great success. Philip had sent in a small pot of caviare, which he knew she was very fond of, and the landlady brought them up some cutlets with vegetables and a sweet. Philip had ordered Burgundy, which was her favourite wine. With the curtains drawn, a bright fire, and one of Mildred’s shades on the lamp, the room was cosy.
“It’s really just like home,” smiled Philip.
“I might be worse off, mightn’t I?” she answered.
When they finished, Philip drew two arm-chairs in front of the fire, and they sat down. He smoked his pipe comfortably. He felt happy and generous.
“What would you like to do tomorrow?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m going to Tulse Hill. You remember the manageress at the shop, well, she’s married now, and she’s asked me to go and spend the day with her. Of course she thinks I’m married too.”
Philip’s heart sank.
“But I refused an invitation so that I might spend Sunday with you.”
He thought that if she loved him she would say that in that case she would stay with him. He knew very well that Norah would not have hesitated.
“Well, you were a silly to do that. I’ve promised to go for three weeks and more.”