“To have a quiet smoke,” said I.
“Alone?” asked Dolly.
“Yes, alone,” said I.
I walked towards the door. Dolly stood by the table fingering the album. I had almost reached the door; then I happened to look round.
“Mr. Carter!” said Dolly, as though a new idea had struck her.
“What is it, Lady Mickleham?”
“Well, you know, Mr. Carter, I—I shall try to forget that mistake of yours.”
“You’re very kind, Lady Mickleham.”
“But,” said Dolly with a troubled smile, “I—I’m quite afraid I shan’t succeed, Mr. Carter.”
After all, the smoking room is meant for smoking.