It'll be turning over to-morrow. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. \"I'm gonna hit the showers while I'm here, do you mind waiting a few minutes?\" \"Not at all. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it.
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