At first Hubert Scott used to go home every night. No matter if it was 4 a.m. when he was ready to leave Lillian, home he would go. Then one night he fell asleep in Lillian's apartment. It was noon when they awakened.
It was after one when he reached his own house and it was with fear and trepidation that he let himself in. Helen was out. Gone to attend a bridge luncheon, Nellie told him. Hubert wished that she had been home so that he could make his explanations and go back to Lillian. He didn't dare leave without seeing her. It would be harder to explain when next they met.
"Will she be home for dinner, Nellie?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Scott. She'll be home for dinner."
So Hubert spent the afternoon in Helen's chair dozing. When she came in, he awakened with a start. He was sorry that he had fallen asleep. She had the advantage now. He was a trifle befuddled. She would be smart enough, too, to see her advantage and fire her questions at him before he had time to collect his thoughts. Damn these clever wives. Especially clever jealous wives.
But Helen merely looked into the living-room, nodded to him, and walked upstairs. Gee, she was sore. Sore as a boil. He ought to have brought her something.
