That stumped us. It was one thing to give them a bad night, and telephone them in the morning that it was a joke and that I'd gone direct from Carrie's to mother's, which was the arrangement. But Carrie was a great one for getting in detectives. You remember, the time her sister was married, that Carrie had a detective in the house for a week before the wedding watching the presents, and how at the last minute the sister wanted to marry the detective, who was a good-looking boy, and they had a dreadful time getting her to the church. We both thought intently for quite a time. "We must cut the telephone wire, Roger," I said at length. Roger was not eager about cutting the telephone. He said he would probably be shocked to death, although if he could find a pair of rubber overshoes he'd take the risk. "It ought to be done the very last thing," he said. "No use rousing their suspicions early." We played up hard all afternoon. Roger kissed the lump of sugar he put in my tea, and went and sulked on the parapet when Peter Arundel came and sat beside me. Carrie joined him there, and I could see her talking earnestly to him while Roger looked out over the landscape with eyes that were positively sombre. "Having a good time?" said Peter Arundel to me. "Heavenly, Peter," I replied, looking at Roger. "I didn't believe I could be so happy." "Go to it," said Peter. "What's a day or two out of a lifetime." I turned round and faced him, my hands gripped hard in my lap. "That's it," I said tensely. "That's the thought that's killing me. One can only be happy for a day or two." "Oh, I wouldn't go so far as that," said Peter. "You have a pretty fair time, you know, Clara. Old Bill's a good sort." "Oh, Bill!" I said. "I went to college with Bill. Maybe Bill hasn't any frills, but he's a real man." He glared at Roger's drooping shoulders. "He's no tailor's dummy anyhow." I ignored this. "Peter," I said in a thin voice, "have you ever read Ellen Key?" "Not on your life!" said Peter. I quoted a bit I happened to remember. "'Nothing is wiser than the modern woman's desire to see life with her own eyes, not only with those of a husband.'" I sighed. "If I were Bill," said Peter, "I'd burn that book." "'Nothing,'" I continued, "'is more true than that souls which are parted by a lack of perfect frankness never belonged to one another.'" "Look here," said Peter, and got up; "I think you've lost your mind, Clara--you and Roger Waite both. Look at him mooning over there. I'd like to turn the garden hose on him." I looked at Roger--a long gaze that made Peter writhe. "'Love's double heartbeat'----" I began. But Peter stalked away, muttering. Carrie had left Roger, so I put down my cup and followed him to the parapet of the terrace. "Darling!" he said. And then, finding Peter was not with me: "How's it going?" "Cracking! They're all worried already."