Eight o'clock
`` I do hope he 'll turn up , '' you say to your wife on the Thursday evening , while dressing . `` Are you sure you made it clear to him ? '' she replies , suspiciously , and you instinctively feel that whatever happens she is going to blame you for it . Eight o'clock arrives , and with it the other guests . At half-past eight your wife is beckoned mysteriously out of the room , where the parlour - maid informs her that the cook has expressed a determination , in case of further delay , to wash her hands , figuratively speaking , of the whole affair . Your wife , returning , suggests that if the dinner is to be eaten at all it had better be begun . She evidently considers that in pretending to expect him you have been merely playing a part , and that it would have been manlier and more straightforward for you to have admitted at the beginning that you had forgotten to invite him .