Time got to be killed somehow."

"Well, take Sally out to dinner."

"What, the little lady?"

"Yes, she'll be lonely by herself. I gave her such damned short notice
about this engagement of mine that she didn't have time to send for
that friend of hers--that Miss Hallard. Would you mind doing that?
Don't hesitate to say if you would."

"Oh no, I wouldn't mind in the least. But how about her?"

"I'll call out to her."

The visitor could hear him opening the door that led into the passage,
then his voice--

"Sally!" The clattering of feet above reached them, the hurried
opening of another door, as though the person called for had been
waiting eagerly for the summons.

"I'm coming," she replied. Her heels tapped loudly--the quick
successive knockings as on a cobbler's last--as she ran down the
stairs.

"Mr. Devenish has come in to ask me to dinner, Sally," he said, before
she reached the bottom. "He's going to take you instead; I can't go,
of course."

The footsteps stopped.

Devenish, within the room, half-closed his eyes, bent his head in
an attitude of amused attention. He heard many things in the silence
that followed.

"Had I better go and dress?" she asked, after the moment's pause.

"Oh no, he's not changed. He's in here; come along."

Sally entered and Devenish moved forward to shake hands.

"Good evening, Miss Bishop; don't you hesitate to say if you'd
thought of doing anything else. I just had a loose end, nothing to
do--so I looked in here, hoping he might come out to dinner."

"It's very kind of you to think of it."

"Oh, not a bit. I shall be delighted. You say where you'd like to
dine; it doesn't make the slightest difference to me. I'll go back
and change if you prefer to dress."

"Oh no, thanks. Really, I think I'd rather not. If you don't mind
my coming as I am."

"Not a bit."

She turned to Traill.

"Shall I go up and put on my hat, Jack?" There was no interest in
her voice, no enthusiasm. This was a child doing the bidding of his
master. Devenish saw through every note of it. He
gathered--erroneously--that Traill had told her he was taking Miss
Standish-Roe to the theatre; fancied that perhaps she may have seen
or heard of the girl's undeniable prettiness, and was piqued with
jealousy. Certainly it was not for love that she was coming out to
dine with him. But that was no deterrent. He looked forward to it
all the more.

"Yes, run up and put on your hat; we can all go out