It was the day before Friday.

Friday, so very near, seemed already palpably present in the surcharged air of the cottage.

No one mentioned it, but that made its nearness more potent.

At his usual hour for dictation, Professor Spence had come out upon the narrow veranda.

But, although his secretary was there, pencil in hand, he had not dictated.
Instead he had sat contemplating Friday so long that his secretary tapped her foot in impatience.
"Are you really lazy ?" she asked, "Or are you just pretending to be ?" "I am really lazy.