Smiling at the recollection, Harry lighted another cigarette.
"What did you say?" Daphne asked.
"If it had been the afternoon I think I'd have taken the risk and told him I didn't know, but as it was the evening—he always gets rather excited in the evening after dinner and so much Perrier water,—walking back to the Ritz in the moonlight, and talking about London, I invented a long story.—No, he won't repeat it, don't be frightened; it was really rather awful; and when Van Buren gives you his word of honour not to tell a thing ..."
"You're all right! That must be a great help," said Valentia sympathetically.
"It shows he has a nice loyal nature," Daphne remarked. "I admire that sort of thing very much."
"A nice loyal nature! I should think he has! He hates spreading scandal, and he wouldn't say a single word now to take away the character of Big Ben—if it was——"
"What?"
"Oh, if it was ever so! You ought to make Daphne wear one of those thin tulle veils to match her hat. They're jolly—you can get them at that shop close to me."
"Oh, she needn't, she's going to be manicured, and she's coming back here for me in a quarter of an hour."
"Good-bye, darling," said Daphne, standing up, and she made a kind of face, which Valentia understood to mean the word Foster.