"Yes, you love me. I have known that for a long time. I wanted you to love me. You know the rest, don't you? I adore you. There's no one but you in the world. Now I've said it. It was bound to happen sooner or later. It's over, and we can never speak to one another again."
He rose from his place. "Come," he said, "I am going to take you home. I had the car waiting here in case we wanted to go to the theatre."
He signed to a waiter.
"Go and find my car, Mr Elton's car," he said to the man, "and tell the driver he won't be wanted to-night. He is to go home."
Rosamond looked at him wonderingly. "I—I think I see."
"Of course. Get your cloak quickly, dear."
He put her into the taxi and gave the address, not of the little flat where she lived, but of her studio.
"Things are better," said Mrs Halward to her husband. "I was afraid at one time that there was going to be serious trouble between Harry and his wife about that wretched Fayre. I gave him a word of warning at the time, and I am convinced it did good."
"What makes you think so?" said her husband, not greatly interested.