"I thought to-day was Wednesday." A feeble effort to extenuate. "To-day is Thursday. You see on the card. It doesn't matter. I can easily arrange with Steptoe.... Oh no!--you can't throw them over at the last moment. Quite absurd!" "Well!--I'm awfully sorry." "It makes no difference at all. Now, I won't disturb you any more." And the iceberg retired. But if Challis had given way to his first impulse, had run after his wife, kissed her, said good-humouredly, "Don't be miffy, Polly Anne!--I shall be at home to-morrow. And you know the Acropolites _did_ ask you too"--had he done this, all might have gone better. But his impulse was weakened by the thought--or the knowledge--that his wife knew perfectly well when she entered the room that he had this engagement, and must already have made all her household arrangements with reference to it. He resented her insincerity, and though he rose from his chair and went towards the door, his resentment had the best of it half-way, and he bit his lip and returned, looking vexed. Now, why couldn't she have said honestly to him at breakfast, "Recollect, to-night's the Acropolis dinner"? He was in such a state of sensitive irritation that, just as he was getting into stroke again, he had a new upset--caught a crab, as it were--because Estrild reminded him of Eldridge, and brought the whole vexation back in full force! CHAPTER XX MRS. ELDRIDGE IN FULL BLOW. THE IMPROPER STUDY OF MANKIND. NOTHING REALLY WRONG! AN IDENTIFICATION WITH A VENGEANCE. HOW CHALLIS CAME HOME LATE Be good enough to note that none of the characters in this story are picturesque or heroic--only chance samples of folk such as you may see pass your window now, this moment, if you will only lay your book down and look out. They are passing--passing all day long--each with a story. And some little thing you see, a meeting, a parting, a quickened step, a hesitation and return, may make the next hour the turning-point of an existence. For it is of such little things the great ones are made; and this is a tale made up of trifles--trifles touching human souls that, for aught we know to the contrary, may last for ever. * * * * *