"Have I? I've been absolutely wretched. I've been longing for you every second of the time. Do let us go out on the terrace or in the park—or somewhere that we can be quite alone together. I have so much to say to you."
His gaze was devouringly bent upon her eyes, and he was sure that he saw commiseration there. She did sympathize with him, then. She would go. In five minutes he would be holding her in his arms. But he misinterpreted.
"I'm so sorry, Caryll," she said, and it was like a dash of iced water. "I'm so sorry. But I've promised to play bridge. See, they are bringing in the tables."
"You mustn't," he commanded. "I can't let you. I've been waiting hours—oh, so many, many, long, long hours. I can't—"
And then he was conscious that some one was standing at his elbow, speaking. It was Sir Guy Waldron—and he was saying:
"Now, Mrs. Darling, if you are quite ready."
CHAPTER XVII
The Intervention of the Unforeseen
Carleigh stalked off in a pet and smoked innumerable cigarettes, not under the stars, but under heavy low-sailing clouds which swept in from the Solway Firth. His mood was as sullen as the night.