'Any other point of view would be ungracious to our friends to-night,' said Tommy with a laugh. It appeared rather as though it would be unsuited to his own mood also.
'One thing at least we may be sure of,' said Miles, summing up the discussion with a friendly smile. 'We shall none of us do, or be, or feel, at all approximately what we think we shall. You may say what you like, but there's plenty of excitement in it. Unless you're dull yourself, there's no dulness in it.'
'No, there's no dulness in it,' said Peggy Ryle. 'That is the one thing to be said.'
Would Lady Blixworth have echoed that from Barslett? She would have denied it vigorously in words; but could anything be dull so long as one had brains to see the dulness—and a Sarah Bonfill to describe it to?
Peggy walked off home with Tommy. Nobody questioned, or seemed inclined to question, that arrangement now. Even Miles Childwick looked on with a smile, faintly regretful perhaps, yet considerably amused. He linked his arm in Arty Kane's and the two walked along the Strand, discussing the permutations of human feeling. There seems no need to follow their disquisition on such a well-worn subject. It is enough to catch a fragment from Miles. 'The essence being reciprocity——' was all a news-vendor got for his offer of the late edition.
'It's far too fine to drive,' Peggy declared, picking her way round a small puddle or two, left by a goodly summer shower. 'Have you plenty of time?'
'Time enough to walk with you.'
She put her arm in his. 'So that's all over!' she said regretfully. 'At least, I don't see how Trix is going to do anything else that's at all sensational.'
'I should think she doesn't want to,' said Tommy soberly.