“I shall be delighted,” he said.
“You don’t look it,” she said. “But I forgot—savages rarely smile. At any rate, we start to-morrow at twelve o’clock. Sir Arkroyd is going to drive us down in Lord Dalrymple’s drag.”
“Perhaps there isn’t room,” said Jack.
“Are you trying to find an excuse for not coming?” she said, smiling on him.
Jack frowned, and then laughed.
“I’ll come,” he said.
Yes, there was a nameless charm about her which had made itself felt already. Was it her beauty or her frankness—the latter so different to the cut-and-dried and measured manner of the ordinary women of society?
“I’ll come,” he said.
Then he looked around.
“This is a beautiful room. Where did you get all the flowers from? Some of them I never saw before in London.”