"We had to see the last of you," and I sighed very ostentatiously.
Pyrrha laughed. She did not believe in it, and she knew that I knew she did not, but the little compliment pleased her, all the same.
"Smugg," I pursued, "is ill in bed. But perhaps he wouldn't have come, anyhow."
"If you please, sir——" Pyrrha began; but she stopped.
"Yes, Betsy? What is it?"
"Would you take a message for me, sir?"
"If it's a proper one, Betsy, for a married lady to send."
She laughed a little, and said:
"Oh, it's no harm, sir. I'm afraid he aint—he's rather down, sir."
"Who?"