‘Of course you could not come with us,’ asserted Linda, in her little undertone of mockery. ‘Mrs. Arbuthnot is such a child! She would conjure up a dozen possible horrors if you were to be absent from her so long.’
‘I am not sure that deserting the Princess would be a courteous action to our hosts,’ said Gaston Arbuthnot, hesitating under the first touch of temptation.
‘You are made of poorer stuff than your cousin,’ thought Linda, glancing, for a second, at his handsome face. ‘To gain a victory over Monsieur Geoffrey would be to gain a victory indeed.’ Then, aloud—‘If we were to carry away any of the younger people I should feel it treason to desert the Princess,’ she observed. ‘I would not go, indeed, if Robbie and I were wanted as chaperons. Considering the existence of Mrs. Verschoyle and Miss Tighe—in talking of chaperons, Mr. Arbuthnot, you and I must never forget Miss Tighe—I think Doctor and Mrs. Thorne may very well be spared. For you it is different.’
‘In what way?’ asked Gaston, wincing inwardly under her sarcasms.
‘Oh, different, altogether. Too much depends upon your presence. Pray do not think of such a revolutionary proceeding as taking flight. You would never be allow—I mean, I am sure you would not find it advantageous to run away. What messages do you send to Mr. Grimsby?’
‘None.’
‘That is severe. You do not believe in my delivering them intact?’
‘I mean to deliver them myself.’
Linda Thorne laughed incredulously. ‘I wish I could make an enormous wager at this thrilling juncture,’ she remarked with persistence. ‘Come, Mr. Arbuthnot. Will you bet me a single pair of gloves that you will be ... that you will quit the Princess when we do?’
‘It would be betting on a certainty,’ said Gaston. ‘My mind is made up. I am really glad of the chance of seeing old Max.’