he
evening paper. His passing annoyance had died out; he was usually too
tired after his day's work for such feelings to keep their edge long.
But he was curious--disinterestedly curious--to know what pretext Undine
would invent for being so late, and what excuse she would have found for
forgetting the little boy's birthday.

He read on till half-past eight; then he stood up and sauntered to the
window. The avenue below it was deserted; not a carriage or motor turned
the corner around which he expected Undine to appear, and he looked idly
in the opposite direction. There too the perspective was nearly empty,
so empty that he singled out, a dozen blocks away, the blazing lamps
of a large touring-car that was bearing furiously down the avenue from
Morningside. As it drew nearer its speed slackened, and he saw it hug
the curb and stop at his door. By the light of the street lamp he
recognized his wife as she sprang out and detected a familiar silhouette
in her companion's fur-coated figure. Then the motor flew on and Undine
ran up the steps. Ralph went out on the landing. He saw her coming up
quickly, as if to reach her room unperceived; but when she caught sight
of him she stopped, her head thrown back and the light falling on her
blown hair and glowing face.

"Well?" she said, smiling up at him.

"They waited for you all the afternoon in Washington Square--the boy
never had his birthday," he answered.

Her colour deepened, but she instantly rejoined: "Why, what happened?
Why didn't the nurse take him?"

"You said you were coming to fetch him, so she waited."

"But I telephoned--"

He said to himself: "Is THAT the lie?" and answered: "Where from?"

"Why, the studio, of course--" She flung her cloak open, as if to attest
her veracity. "The sitting lasted longer than usual--there was something
about the dress he couldn't get--"

"But I thought he was giving a tea."

"He had tea afterward; he always does. And he asked some people in to
see my portrait. That detained me too. I didn't know they were coming,
and when they turned up I couldn't rush away. It would have looked as
if I didn't like the picture." She paused and they gave each other a
searching simultaneous glance. "Who told you it was a tea?" she asked.

"Clare Van Degen. I saw her at my mother's."

"So you weren't unconsoled after all--!"

"The nurse didn't get any message. My people were awfully disappointed;
and the poor boy has cried his eyes out.