“Won’t she hold your hand?”

“I devoutly hope not!” exclaimed Sir Eustace. “That would be the last straw. Well, goodbye, liquid eyes. If I shoot a lion I shan’t give you the skin⁠—after the base way you’ve deserted me.”

He squeezed my hand warmly and we parted. Suzanne was waiting for me in the hall. She was to come down to see me off.

“Let’s start at once,” I said hastily, and motioned to the man to get a taxi.

Then a voice behind me made me start:

“Excuse me, Miss Beddingfeld, but I’m just going down in a car. I can drop you and Mrs. Blair at the station.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said hastily. “But there’s no need to trouble you. I⁠—”