Lillian met the first of August alone. Hubert had spent the preceding night with his wife and son. He had felt that he really ought to do it. Helen's aunt from Wheeling was visiting and he thought it only decent to put in an appearance at least once. Helen hadn't asked him to, but that was probably because she thought him extremely busy. She'd be tickled to death at his thoughtfulness.
Lillian fished the electric bill out of the mail-box and met the rent collector on the stairs as she returned to her own apartment.
"How do you do, Mrs. Cory," he said pleasantly. "I'll get to you in about fifteen minutes. Will you be in?"
"Yes, I'll be in, but I—my husband is out and he forgot to leave the rent."
"Oh, I see. What time will he be back?"
"Not till late. After dinner."
"Around seven?"
"Eight's more like it."
"Well, I'll stop around about eight-thirty."
The rent collector marked a memorandum on his little pad. Lillian walked past him and up the stairs. Her cheeks felt hot and she was breathless. The rent collector would be back that evening. Suppose Hubert
