"Oh, I remember now, I heard something. It appears that Romer left his wife and Daphne at the dance and then came back in an hour to fetch them, and she wasn't there."
"Who wasn't where?"
"Val and Harry had gone for a little fresh air in a taxi for about a quarter of an hour, that's all. They came back and explained it."
"They would. Don't apologise."
"But just the few minutes that Romer was looking for them made—well, rather a fuss. It was perfectly all right afterwards. They all had supper together. So there wasn't much talk about it, except, as I say, while Romer was waiting for them. I never in my life saw any one look so ghastly as that chap did."
Vaughan sat down and looked thoughtful.
"Only you, Muir, would leave out the only thing of the slightest importance that you had to tell me, which I hear the second I leave the house from that round-faced tattooed idiot, Rathbone, at the corner of the street."
"But I tell you it's all right, old chap."
"All right? Don't you see that this sort of thing constantly happening will gradually undermine ...? I like Valentia. It's a great shame."
"Harry certainly isn't worth smashing up a happy home for," Muir answered, "if that's what you're afraid of. But ... when he marries Miss Walmer it'll be all right. Val will forget about him, and settle down with Romer again. I'm deeper than you think, Gillie ... ah, I don't say much, but I can see as far through a brick wall as most people!"