\" Said John as he piled the papery remnants of their meal onto the tray. If the boy was legging it alone…. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. ” Mr. ” “There is no one else who has a key to your rooms?” “No one except my maid, who is away in Wiltshire. Not so Gosse. ‘And me—’ ‘You, mademoiselle, are more trouble than you’re worth, and I’ll thank you to —’ ‘Hilary, don’t,’ said Lucy, and Melusine’s rising temper cooled a little. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol.
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