He took Maggy's arm, holding it almost as tightly as the policeman had done, and walked her on in the direction of the Marble Arch.
"Thank you," she said in a subdued tone when they had gone a dozen paces. "Now I can manage to—to go on by myself."
"I don't think so," he rejoined sternly. "What are you doing, wandering about at this time of night?"
"I—I might as well ask you the same question."
"I can answer it. I have just left a friend's house—a late affair—fortunately for you."
"Why fortunately for me?" she asked, trying to assume an air of innocent resentment. "You're making too much fuss about a mistake in crossing the street."
He stopped, still holding her, compelling her to look at him.
"Maggy, are you going to tell me lies?"
"No," she choked, lowering her head.
"Then—" Chalfont did not proceed with what he was about to say. A taxi was passing and he hailed it. "I'll take you to your flat," he said.