“To-morrow.”
He looked at the decanters. “And when is that fellow coming?”
“He may be here any moment.”
“It's pretty rough,” he sighed. “Two glasses of that stuff would drive you so wild you wouldn't know where you were, Bess,” he expostulated.
“Well, I wish I didn't know where I was. I wish I wasn't anywhere.” He looked at her, and then dropped his eyes, with the effect of giving up a hopeless conundrum.
But he asked: “What's the matter?”
She scanned him keenly before she answered: “Something that I should like to tell you—that you ought to know. Alan, do you think you are fit to judge of a very serious matter?”
He laughed pathetically. “I don't believe I'm in a very judicial frame of mind to-night, Bess. To-morrow—”
“Oh, to-morrow! Where will you be to-morrow?”
“That's true! Well, what is it? I'll try to listen. But if you knew how my nerves were going.” His eyes wandered from hers back to the decanters. “If I had just one glass—”