“Mademoiselle Nickall.”
Audrey said to herself that she must get Nick very quickly away. She was in no humour to talk even to Nick, and, moreover, she did not want Nick to know that Mr. Gilman was calling upon her.
Miss Nickall was innocent and sweet. Good nature radiated from her soft, tired features, and was somehow also entangled in her fluffy grey hair. She kissed Audrey with affection.
“I’ve just come to say good-bye, you dear!” she said, sitting down and putting her check parasol across her knees. “How lovely you look!”
“Good-bye?” Audrey questioned. “Do I?”
“I have to cross for England to-night. I’ve had my orders. Rosamund came this morning. What about yours?”
“Oh!” said Audrey. “I don’t take orders. But I expect I shall join in, one of these days, when I’ve had everything explained to me properly. You see, you and I haven’t got the same tastes, Nick. You aren’t happy without a martyrdom. I am.”
Nick smiled gravely and uncertainly.
“It’s very serious this time,” said she. “Hasn’t Rosamund spoken to you yet?”
“She’s spoken to me. And I’ve spoken to her. It was deuce, I should say. Or perhaps my ’vantage. Anyhow, I’m not moving just yet.”