mat, drawn and tense, a figure of tragedy, waiting for the Otis elevator to come down again.
III
At last the Otis elevator came down and she went up in it. And then confronted by the door of the flat, she peered through the glass panel to make sure that Mr. Charles Cheesewright was not standing the other side of it; then she opened it with a furtive key, slipped in, and stole past the half-open door of the tiny drawing-room through which came the penetrating accents of Mrs. Wren attuned to the reception of "company."
Once in her own room her first act was to look in the glass with a lurking sense of horror; the second was to decide, which she instantly did, that it would be quite impossible to meet Mr. Cheesewright, and that she didn't need any luncheon.
By the time she had taken off her hat and made herself a little more presentable, both these decisions had grown immutable. She could not meet Mr. Cheesewright, she did not want any luncheon. All she needed was complete solitude, and perhaps a cigarette. But all too soon was she ravished of even these modest requirements. Milly burst suddenly into the room.
"Twenty past one!" she cried reproachfully. "I didn't hear you come in. We are waiting for you."
Mary saw that her plan must be given up. If she really meant to forgo a meal and the honor of Mr. Cheesewright's acquaintance there would have to be a satisfactory explanation. But what explanation could she make? Certainly none that would conceal the truth.
