Some minutes passed. Then she heard--not the key put into the hall door; it had not occurred to her that she was much too far away to hear that--but the bang of the door being shut.
Quickly she closed the drawing-room door, went back to the distant sofa, sat down upon it and began to turn over the poems once more. She even read one quite carefully. As she finished it the door was opened.
She looked up gaily to greet Leo and saw her husband coming into the room.
She was greatly startled. It had never occurred to her that Fritz was quite as likely to arrive before Leo Ulford as Leo Ulford to arrive before Fritz. Why had she never thought of so obvious a possibility? She could not imagine. The difference between the actuality and her intense and angry conception of what it would be, benumbed her mind for an instant. She was completely confused. She sat still with the book of poems on her lap, and gazed at Lord Holme as he came towards her, taking long steps and straddling his legs as if he imagined he had a horse under him. The gay expression had abruptly died away from her face and she looked almost stupid.
“Hulloa!” said Lord Holme, as he saw her.
“Thought you were goin’ to the Blaxtons to-night,” he added.
“I meant to, but I felt tired after the opera.”
Lord Holme stared at her, put his hand into his trousers pocket and pulled out his cigarette-case. Lady Holme knew that he had been in a good humour when he came home, and that the sight of her sitting up in the drawing-room had displeased him. She had seen a change come into his face. He had been looking gay. He began to look glum and turned his eyes away from her.
“What have you been up to?” she asked, with a sudden light gaiety and air of comradeship.
“Club--playin’ bridge,” he answered, lighting a cigarette.
He shot a glance at her sideways as he spoke, a glance that was meant to be crafty. If she had not been excited and horribly jealous, such a glance would probably have amused her, even made her laugh. Fritz’s craft was very transparent. But she could not laugh now. She knew he was telling her the first lie that had occurred to him.
“Lucky?” she asked, still preserving her light and casual manner.
He sat down in an armchair and slowly stretched his legs, staring up at the ceiling. Lady Holme began to think rapidly, feverishly.