‘Well, my saying I should come down to Woking, and all that.’
‘I should have been angry if I thought you had meant it.’
‘Oh, I meant it right enough.’
‘But with what object?’
‘Just to get level with you, Frankie, if you threw me over too completely. Hang it all, she has three hundred and sixty-five days in the year! Am I to be grudged a single hour?’
‘Well, Violet, we won’t quarrel about it. You see I came all right. Pull up your chair and have some tea.’
‘You haven’t even looked at me yet. I won’t take any tea until you do.’
She stood up in front of him, and pushed up her veil. It was a face and a figure worth looking at. Hazel eyes, dark chestnut hair, a warm flush of pink in her cheeks, the features and outline of an old Grecian goddess, but with more of Juno than of Venus, for she might perhaps err a little upon the side of opulence. There was a challenge and defiance dancing in those dark devil-may-care eyes of hers which might have roused a more cold-blooded man than her companion. Her dress was simple and dark, but admirably cut. She was clever enough to know that a pretty woman should concentrate attention upon herself, and a plain one divert it to her adornments.
‘Well?’
‘By Jove, Violet, you look splendid.’