Connie came running back. 'You'll tell mamma where I've gone, won't you?' she asked, her eyes reminding her father of one-half of his duty. 'Oh, and possibly Mr. Chance will be here at dinner.' She managed to recall the other half.
Fricker nodded; Peggy rose with an admirable unconsciousness.
'Hold your bag tight, Miss Ryle,' Fricker advised, with a gleam in his eye as he shook hands.
'That's all right. I'm well looked after,' said Peggy, as the servant opened the door.
Two hansoms were waiting; in each sat a young man smoking a cigarette. At the sight of Peggy they leapt out; at the sight of the gorgeous young woman who accompanied Peggy they exchanged one swift glance and threw away the cigarettes. Introductions were made, Fricker standing and looking on, the butler peering over Fricker's shoulder.
'What time is it?' inquired Peggy.
'Quarter to four,' said Arty Kane.
'Oh, we must be quick, or—or tea'll be cold!' She turned to Miles Childwick. 'Will you go with Miss Fricker, Miles? Arty, take me. Come along. Good-bye, Mr. Fricker.'
She kissed her hand to Fricker and jumped in; Arty followed. Miles, with a queer look of fright on his face, lifted his hat and indicated the remaining hansom.
'It's rather unconventional, isn't it?' giggled Connie, gathering her skirts carefully away from the wheel.