At first, Elsie cared little. She and Leslie Morrison met daily, and on one occasion spent the afternoon in the country together. Elsie recklessly telephoned to her own house at seven o’clock that evening, and said that she was with Irene Tidmarsh, and should not come home that night. “You must,” said the hollow voice at the other end of the line. “I can’t. Her father’s awfully ill, and she’s afraid of being left.” “When shall you be home?” “To-morrow.” “I’ll come and fetch you.” “All right,” said Elsie boldly. “What time?” There was no answer. Williams had rung off. Elsie knew, beyond the possibility of mistake, that her husband suspected her; but in the intense excitement that possessed her she was conscious of nothing so much as of relief that a crisis should be at hand. She spent the night with Leslie Morrison at a tiny hotel in Essex. Early next morning they travelled back to London, parting at Liverpool Street station. “Let me know what happens directly you can, darling,” urged the man. “I’ll telephone. Anyway, come round as soon as you can get away. _He_ won’t be in before seven.” “Good-bye, Elsie darling. I’ll never, never forget....” He left her, joining a hurrying throng of other young men wearing soft hats and carrying little brown bags, nearly all of them hastening towards the City. Elsie proceeded by train and tram to the house of Irene’s father. Her friend opened the door to her. “Hullo! I thought I should see you. That hubby of yours is on the warpath.” “What’s happened?” “Oh, nothing, thanks to me! Come in, Elsie. Have you had breakfast?” “I’ve had some tea; I don’t want anything else. Tell me about Horace.” “Well, Horace, as you call him, saw fit to come round here at eleven o’clock p.m. last night, and got me out of my virtuous downy by ringing at the front door bell till I thought the house was on fire. He said he’d ‘come for’ his wife, if you please!” “I know. I told him I was going to spend the night at your place,” said Elsie calmly. “I suppose you didn’t happen to tumble to it, Ireen?” “I’ve not known you all these years for nothing, old girl,” said Irene, grinning. “What do you take me for? I told him you were in bed and asleep, and had been for hours.” “You’re a real sport, Ireen! How did he take it?” Irene pursed up her lips and shook her head. “He asked me to tell you to ring him up first thing this morning. If you ask me, you’re in for trouble. And p’r’aps now you’ll be so kind as to tell me what it all means, and why on earth you couldn’t have given me fair warning before saying you were here. It’s lucky for you I didn’t give the whole show away on the spot.” Elsie, habitually ready to discuss any of her love-affairs with Irene, had told her nothing about Leslie Morrison. But she saw now that a degree of frankness was inevitable.