Crazy Radio eBooks

To Frederica at thirty--or
thereabout--the job of being a radiantly delightful object of regard
lacked the sporting interest of uncertainty; was almost too simple a
matter to bother about.
But to-night the tenseness of her movements and the faint trace of a
wire edge in the tone in which she addressed the maid, revealed the fact
that she wished she'd started half an hour earlier. Even her husband
discovered it. He brought in a cigarette, left the door open behind him
and stood smiling down at her with the peculiarly complacent look that
characterizes a married man of forty when he finds himself dressed
beyond cavil in the complete evening harness of civilization, ten
minutes before his wife.
She shot a glance of rueful inquiry at him--"Now what have _you_ come
fussing around for?" would be perhaps a fair interpretation of it--and
asked him what time it was, in the evident hope that the boudoir clock
on her dressing-table had deceived her. It had, but in the wrong
direction.
"Seven twenty-two, thirty-six," he told her.


Pages:
16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40