“Him--Horace--and me. The same old thing, of course--jealousy. I stood up to him, and told him I didn’t intend to put up with that sort of treatment any longer, and I’d never give up anyone I--I liked.” “I say, Elsie, you were careful, weren’t you?” asked Morrison, his voice grown anxious. “Yes, yes, darling, of course I was, for your sake. But Leslie--this is what happened--he knocked me down.” There was a smothered exclamation that made her heart leap with sudden exultation. Of course Leslie cared.... “Elsie--girlie--he didn’t! Are you hurt?” She could have laughed in pure joy at his sharply-anxious question. “Nothing bad. Shaken, of course, and I expect there’ll be a bad bruise, but I can put up with worse than that, you know.” “You oughtn’t to have to! The hound! I’d like to.... Look here, can’t we meet?” “Yes, yes!” she said eagerly. “What about tea? I’ll come to----” “The same place,” he interrupted quickly, and she understood that he did not want her to mention the name of the tea-shop that had so often served them as rendezvous. “What time?” “About half-past five. I shan’t get away any earlier.” “All right, darling. I’ll be there.” “Sure you’re all right?” “Yes, quite all right now,” Elsie declared, laughing happily. “I must go. See you later, then?” “Yes. Good-bye, boy.” The answering good-bye came to her faintly over the wires as the final click warned her that he had hung up the receiver. Elsie looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Only three o’clock--two hours and a quarter before she could think of starting out. The telephone rang again, and Elsie, with a joyful hope that Morrison had been unable to resist a further word, snatched at the instrument. “Hallo, hallo! Who’s there?” “I am--Horace,” said her husband’s flat, nasal voice. “Look here. How would you like to go to the play to-night, Elsie?” “What!” said Elsie, disappointed at not hearing Leslie Morrison’s voice again, and still dazed from the scene of the morning. “I said, how would you like to do a theatre to-night? I’ve got tickets for ‘The Girl on the Pier’--good places--for to-night.” She understood at last that he was seeking to propitiate her, and to make up for his violence. “I don’t mind. What time does it start?” “Half-past eight, but we’d better meet in town somewhere for some food. I shan’t have time to come home first. What about the Corner House, at about seven o’clock? That’ll give us plenty of time to go on to Shaftesbury Avenue afterwards.” “All right. How many tickets have you got, Horace?” “Just the two. I thought you and I would go by ourselves and have a jolly evening,” said the far-away voice rather tremulously. Elsie laughed drearily as she rang off. It seemed to her that the time dragged interminably until she could go upstairs and dress herself for the evening’s outing. She meant to meet Morrison first and then go on to the Corner House and wait there for her husband.