Carleigh was about to seek something more consoling in another quarter when one of the giggling girls of the previous afternoon asked him the time.
"Haven't the faintest idea," he said. "Left my watch behind."
At which she giggled in such an irritating way that he turned sharply upon her.
"That's so funny," she managed to enunciate. "There isn't a single watch among us. They were all forgotten—and we can't find out the exact time."
"And—and you were saved," said Carleigh boorishly. But she didn't in the least understand.
Just then the horn of a motor echoed from the park's main drive and a minute later its lamps flared as it rolled over the sward toward the wood.
Sir Caryll ran forward, but the novelist was before him, desirous of being first to secure a place. The young baronet's object, however, was different.
"What do they say of Mrs. Darling?" he called as the car slowed down.
"Who, sir?" asked the chauffeur.
"The lady who was so severely burned. Have the doctors seen her, do you know?"