“Only to those who don’t know you—who are taken in by your delusive appearance of meekness and decorum.”
“I like your long words.”
“All out of crossword puzzles.”
“So educative.”
“Loraine, dear, don’t beat about the bush. Will you or won’t you?”
Loraine’s face sobered. It took on its characteristic appearance of determination. Her small mouth hardened and her little chin shot out aggressively.
“No, Jimmy. Not while things are as they are at present—all unfinished.”
“I know we haven’t done what we set out to do,” agreed Jimmy. “But all the same—well, it’s the end of a chapter. The papers are safe at the Air Ministry. Virtue triumphant. And—for the moment—nothing doing.”
“So—let’s get married?” said Loraine with a slight smile.
“You’ve said it. Precisely the idea.”
But again Loraine shook her head.
“No, Jimmy. Until this thing’s rounded up—until we’re safe—”
“You think we’re in danger?”
“Don’t you?”
Jimmy’s cherubic pink face clouded over.
“You’re right,” he said at last. “If that extraordinary rigmarole of Bundle’s is true—and I suppose, incredible as it sounds, it must be true—then we’re not safe till we’ve settled with— No. 7!”