"Quite. Malcolm and I settled it just now. He will spend a year or so pottering about London, Paris and Rome and I shall go back to Africa."
With a mighty effort Beatrix held herself under absolute control. "But what about the party at Sherry's during Christmas week?"
"Scratched," said Franklin, shortly.
"I see. Well, now we know, don't we? And that's something. How long, exactly, do you propose that I shall remain a grass widow?"
"That," said Franklin, "is entirely up to you."
A bell-boy came in, rumbled grinning up to Beatrix and handed her a telegram. She took it. "Will you allow me?" she asked, and tore it open. A curious smile played round her lips as she read it over several times. "No," she said, "it isn't entirely up to me," and gave it to Franklin.
And what he read was this. "Ask Pelham to bring you home as soon as possible. No one is ill but we are all greatly perturbed by amazing rumors and daily anonymous letters. A consultation is necessary. Much love. Honoria Vanderdyke."
"H'm," said Franklin. "Sutherland York at work. May I show this to Malcolm?"
"Of course," said Beatrix.
Malcolm's remark, gravely spoken, was "Scandal again."