I'll Not Be Back This Day

At three o'clock, that is Mrs. Leathwuss's thought. Excuses are not difficult, in his position in the office, he would not even have to make them. They sit by the French windows that open onto a small balcony and are open now. Vividly, Mrs. Lethwess wonders at ten past five: Why couldn't it be that he would come back this evening and confess there has been a miscalculation? And how could Elthspeth, busy with her orchestra, traveling to Cleveland and Chicago and San Francisco, possibly be a mother?