As I shut the door, she leaned to me and whispered: "Tell her for me she's a cat-a cruel cat."
I handed the driver a bill. "You've a very bad memory, cabby, haven't you?" I asked.
"Extremely bad, sir," said he, touching his hat.
"But, Maisie, I've got the swell's college shirt on," I heard "Boiler-plate" insist. Then the wheels moved.
The Draytons were both upon their feet when I stole back into the hall. I needed my hat and coat, or I shouldn't have set foot within the house again that night. Jack, a bit staggery and holding to the back of a chair, mopped the cut on his temple with a handkerchief, his wife's handkerchief, in his free hand.
Natica, a smear of red on the front of her frock, stood beside him, with a strangely happy expression in her face and pose. A great many things had been pushed over the precipice which leads to forgetfulness, in the time I had been out on the sidewalk busy with the cabby.
"Good-night, Percy," Jack called out.
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