"You're nearly half an hour late."
"Well, I know. I couldn't help it. Where is she?"
"She got tired of waiting for you, and went for a walk in the wood."
"She might have waited."
"Well, yes. One would think she'd be accustomed to it by now," said Isobel. Her tone was lazily indolent, but her eyes were set on him in mockery.
Harry looked at her with a sudden alertness. He looked at her hard. "Accustomed to waiting for me?"
"Yes." She was exasperating in her malicious tranquillity, meaning more than she said, saying nothing that he could lay hold of, quite grave, and laughing at him.
"Any hidden meanings, Miss Vintry?" For, as a fact, Harry had generally been punctual, and knew it.
"Nothing but what's quite obvious," she retorted, dexterously fencing.
"Or ought to be, to a man not so slow as I am?"