“Really,” said the Duke, with the slightest air of being questioned enough, “they have so many different names for trains that I don’t encumber my memory with them. There will, however, be a train. As for the car—— What’s this, Frank?”
“Alphonse offers his sincere apologies. But the design, at least, is novel. The way the truffles are arranged——”
“Miss Hordern will excuse our shortcomings. Where is the champagne?”
“On the ice, your——”
“Yes, yes. As for the car, Miss Hordern, I venture to hope that you will accept it as a token of my regard—and a reminiscence of an evening which has turned out not, I hope, altogether unpleasantly?”
“Oh, I couldn’t!”
“You accepted the Chief Constable.”
“But he—he’s very delightful,” Angela said, apparently eager to convince him of the soundness of her judgment.
“So is the car,” said the Duke, tactfully avoiding the discussion.
Angela swallowed her last morsel of truffle, and drank her last drain of champagne. The sound of a motor was heard in the lane outside.