He said: "But if Kennet hated Luker and Sangore so much, what made him come down here for the week end?"
"I did. I thought that if he could come down here and see what they were really like, he might have given up his stupid ideas. And I knew they were going to offer him an awfully good job. Algy told me so."
"Who?"
"Algy. Algy Fairweather. Of course you know."
"Of course," said the Saint humbly. "And didn't Kennet appreciate it?"
"No. That's what made me so furious. When we got here he told me he was glad they wanted to see him, because he wanted to see them, too, and instead of them giving him a job he was going to see that theirs were made so uncomfortable that they'd be glad to give them up. So I told him I thought he was a silly, stupid, narrow-minded, bigoted halfwit, and a crashing bore as well, and — and we parted. After dinner he went into the library to talk to them, and I went to the movies with Don Knightley, and I never saw John again." She gazed at the Saint appealingly. "D-do you really think it was my fault that all this happened?"
He considered her without smiling.
"I think you deserve a damned good hiding for leading Kennet up the garden," he said dispassionately. "And if I were Windlay I'd see that you got one."
She pouted. She seemed to be more disappointed that he could think of her like that than seriously annoyed by what he had said. And then, quite unanswerably, a gleeful little twinkle came into her eyes that made her look momentarily like a mischievous and very attractive child.
"You wouldn't say that if you knew Windlay," she giggled. "He's a very pale and skinny young man with glasses."