"
He watched her considerately. "Thank God, my lance is free," he said.
"Well--I suppose you must--if you must. I've enjoyed the talk."
Her eyes lighted, smiling. "So have I--immensely--it is very good
of you. Good-bye." She held out her hand.
"Do you think you get off so lightly?" he asked.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean--do you think I'm going to let you go without some chance
of seeing you again?"
"But--"
He checked that. He could not guess what had been passing through
her mind, yet the note in her voice on that one word was discouraging.
"You are going to come to dinner with me one evening."
She was full of indecision. He gave her no time to think. It was not
his intention to do so.
"But how can I?" she began.
"By coming dressed--just as you are. No need to go home and change.
I'll be ready to meet you outside the office at six o'clock. You don't
get out till a quarter past? Then a quarter past. We go to dinner--we
go to a theatre; music-hall if you like--then I drive you down to
Waterloo, put you in the last train to Kew Bridge--and that is all."
She laughed in spite of herself.
"I'll write to Strand-on-Green, and let you know what evening.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135