"I say, old girl, I didn't come here to talk history, if you don't mind."
"Well, what do you want to talk about? Shall I show you my new one of Zena Dare?" said Dolly, opening the postcard album.
"Certainly not. I can't worry about Zena Dare. No, I've got something to tell you—something rather serious. Zena Dare, indeed! What next?"
"Oh dear, are you in a bad temper?"
"How like a woman! No, I'm not in a bad temper. Talking sense doesn't show that one's in a bad temper. But it's a beastly thing to have to do."
Dorothy sat on both the books, came nearer to Savile, and looked rather pale, tactfully waiting, in silence.
Then suddenly he said in a different tone, quite cheerily——
"That's rather jolly, the way that blue bow is stuck in your hair, Dolly."
"I thought you wanted to talk sense, Savile. What is it? Have you found out—anything?"
"What do you mean? Yes, I've jolly well found out that I can't be engaged to you any more. I've no right to be."