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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Seven-twenty-five!" Claudia sat down dejectedly. "You don't suppose they could be waiting, do you?" "I don't." Laine smiled a twisted little smile. "Channing by nature is a train-despatcher. Dinner on the dot and served swiftly is his one household demand. They will be half through before we can get there." "And I'm starving." She got up. "Well, I can't help it.
I sat down. My brain was chaos. Then my perception grew clear and minute as though I saw things in a concave mirror. His manner seemed to have changed into something nervous and hasty. He pulled out his watch and grimaced at it. "Eleven-seven! And to-night I must Seven-twenty-five. Waterloo! I must go at once." He called for the bill, and struggled with his coat.
Course, it would have been more heroic if Clyde hadn't been such a ladylike gent. As it is, he's about as terrifyin' as a white poodle. So I'm still breathin' calm and reg'lar when I sees him rollin' up in a cab about seven-twenty-five. I'm at the curb before he can open the taxi door. "Sorry," says I, "but I'm afraid it's all off." "Eh?" says he, gawpin' at me.
Reaching Piccadilly, Gray stood for a time on the corner, indifferent to the jostling of passers-by. Finally he crossed, walked along to the Prince's Restaurant, and entered the lobby. He glanced at his wrist-watch. It registered the hour of seven-twenty-five.
Seven-twenty-five! someone said, but not one of us needed any reminder. Five minutes more and the great experiment would begin. Had Sir Douglas Haig made an army equal to the task? What would be the answer to skeptics who said that the London cockneys and the Manchester factory hands and all the others without military training could not be made into a force skilful enough to take those trenches?
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