“She can’t help that, poor girl.”
“A solidity of mind,” said Calder, a little stiffly.
“Oh, I beg pardon. But I say, Calder, what are you driving at?”
“Charlie! Charlie!” sounded from outside. “Tea’s ready.”
Calder rose and took Charlie by the arm.
“Should I be safe,” he asked solemnly, “in allowing myself to fall in love with Miss Bushell, or are you likely to step in again?”
“You mean it? Honor bright, Calder?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Bradshaw? By Jove, where’s Bradshaw?”
“Bradshaw? What the devil has Bradshaw——?”