“That’s an engagement,” said I. “At 10 o’clock, Victoria Station, just you and I, and nobody else in the house the wiser. If I’m right, and Ivor’s there, shall you think it wise to give him up?”
“He might be obliged to go to Paris, suddenly, for some business reason, without meaning to call on Maxine de Renzie—in which case he’d probably write me. But—at the station, I shall ask him straight out—that is, if he’s there, as I’m sure he won’t be—whether he intends to see Mademoiselle de Renzie. If he says no, I’ll believe him. If he says yes—”
“You’ll tell him all is over between you?”
“He’d know that without my telling, after our talk last night.”
“And whatever happens, you will say nothing about having heard Maxine’s name from me?”
“Nothing,” Di answered. And I knew she would keep her word.
IVOR DUNDAS’ POINT OF VIEW
CHAPTER IV
IVOR TRAVELS TO PARIS
It is rather a startling sensation for a man to be caught suddenly by the nape of the neck, so to speak, and pitched out of heaven down to—the other place.
But that was what happened to me when I arrived at Victoria Station, on my way to Paris.