“Eve didn’t feel quite sure of you,” the actress stated; “and so we arranged that if she wasn’t up at my flat by nine o’clock, I was to come down and reconnoitre. What have you been doing to make Eve cry?”
“Unintentional, I assure you——” Thorold began.
“There’s something between you two,” said Kitty Sartorius sagaciously, in significant accents. “What is it?”
She sat down, touched her picture hat, smoothed her white gown, and tapped her foot. “What is it, now? Mr. Thorold, I think you had better tell me.”
Thorold raised his eyebrows and obediently commenced the narration, standing with his back to the fire.
“How perfectly splendid!” Kitty exclaimed. “I’m so glad you cornered Mr. Bowring. I met him one night and I thought he was horrid. And these are the notes? Well, of all the——!”
Thorold proceeded with his story.
“Oh, but you can’t do that, Eve!” said Kitty, suddenly serious. “You can’t go and split! It would mean all sorts of bother; your wretched newspaper would be sure to keep you hanging about in London, and we shouldn’t be able to start on our holiday to-morrow. Eve and I are starting on quite a long tour to-morrow, Mr. Thorold; we begin with Ostend.”
“Indeed!” said Thorold. “I, too, am going in that direction soon. Perhaps we may meet.”
“I hope so,” Kitty smiled, and then she looked at Eve Fincastle. “You really mustn’t do that, Eve,” she said.