Pepper," she said, smiling at
me.
And after that she was all right. At least, you would have said so. She
talked a lot at dinner, and chaffed Bobbie, and played us ragtime on
the piano afterwards, as if she hadn't a care in the world. Quite a jolly
little party it was--not. I'm no lynx-eyed sleuth, and all that sort of
thing, but I had seen her face at the beginning, and I knew that she was
working the whole time and working hard, to keep herself in hand, and
that she would have given that diamond what's-its-name in her hair and
everything else she possessed to have one good scream--just one. I've
sat through some pretty thick evenings in my time, but that one had the
rest beaten in a canter. At the very earliest moment I grabbed my hat and
got away.
Having seen what I did, I wasn't particularly surprised to meet Bobbie
at the club next day looking about as merry and bright as a lonely
gum-drop at an Eskimo tea-party.
He started in straightway. He seemed glad to have someone to talk to
about it.
"Do you know how long I've been married?" he said.
I didn't exactly.
"About a year, isn't it?"
"Not _about_ a year," he said sadly. "Exactly a year--yesterday!"
Then I understood. I saw light--a regular flash of light.
"Yesterday was----?"
"The anniversary of the wedding. I'd arranged to take Mary to the
Savoy, and on to Covent Garden.
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