What the car was wanted for, how it was connected with Cleopatra's illness, he hadn't either the inclination or the interest to discover; he only deplored the destiny that caused Cleopatra's breakdown when, suddenly, without Mrs. Delarayne's having made any mention of the plan to him, Leonetta, dazzling, electrifying, and elfish as usual, tripped out into the garden to whisper to him that her mother wished her to drive with her to Ashbury at once.
"To Ashbury—you—at once—with the Warrior?" he ejaculated. "Whatever for?"
"I don't know," said Leonetta.
"But it's impossible," he objected. "Can't you say you can't go?"
"I wish I could."
"But why should the old Warrior want to take precisely you to Ashbury?" he pursued.
"I only know," she replied, "that Lord Henry's Sanatorium is at Ashbury, and that Peachy's making far too much of Cleo's illness. Why, it's only the heat."
"How many miles is it to Ashbury?"
"Seventeen to twenty, I believe."
"So you'll be gone about two hours?"