“Yes, of course we have,” said Lady Condor soothingly. “I did not mean that. But now where is Condor? Oh, he has walked home across the fields. So good for his figure! I wish I could do the same for mine. Yes, Nita has been quite nice to Miss Seer, and now Violet is seeing her off.”
“I am motoring back to town to-night,” Violet Riversley was saying as she shut the door of Ruth Seer’s little two-seater car, “or I would like to come over to Thorpe. How is it?”
“Just lovely,” said Ruth, smiling. “Be sure and come whenever you can.”
She had taken off the brakes, put out the clutch and got into gear before Violet answered. Then she laid her hand, as with a sudden impulse, on the side of the car.
“If one day I should—quite suddenly—wire to you and ask you to have me to stay—would you?” she asked.
“Why yes, of course,” said Ruth.
“You might have other visitors—or be away.”
“No, I shall not have other visitors, and I shall not be away.”
The conveyances of other guests had begun to crowd the drive, and Ruth had to give all her attention to getting her car out of a gate built before the day of cars. It was only when she was running clear, down the long slope from Fairbridge, that she remembered the curious and absolute certainty with which she had answered Violet Riversley’s question.