Chapter SeventeenAt four o’clock that afternoon Lazare came away from the telephone with the look in his face which Etta feared more than anything else in the world.
He met her as he turned from the instrument, took her familiarly by the arm, and marched her into the dining room. He had shut the door, and she was fluttering and asking: “What is it?” when he abruptly bade her be silent for once and listen.
“Major Armitage is coming down here,” he said, and, as Etta gasped and caught at his arm, he went on—
“If you’re going to be useless to me, say so at once, and I go elsewhere.”
“To Nadine, I suppose?” said Etta, frightened but holding on to him.
“Certainly, if I think she will be more useful.”
“No, no, Lazare—why do you speak to me like that? You know I’ll do anything.”
“You will d
