"Oh! Daddy, I do love you."
Val's face curiously gave the impression that it had grown pale, while the colour in her cheeks and lips "stayed put"--almost as if it had been "put." Haidee was interested in this phenomenon, but there was no time to give it more than passing observation, for Rupert Lorrain suddenly flashed into the scene with the announcement that he would drive them back in his motor. They engaged in a bustle for luggage, of which Haidee had apparently brought a mountain--and a few moments later all were packed into Rupert's luxurious Panhard and flying along the route Nationale, Bran tooting the siren and singing at the top of his voice.
"Sing before breakfast, you 'll cry before tea," quoted Haidee at him. She had to shriek to be heard.
"Shall we drop you at your hotel, Garrett? Or will you come to breakfast with us at the Villa?" Val's voice was the casual gentle voice of a good friend.
The realisation that he had been calmly and unquestioningly going back with this noisy crowd as though it belonged to him, to her villa which was not his, shocked him into a stiff answer.
"At the hotel, please. And I 'd like Bran to stay with me this morning, if you don't mind."
"Oh, yes," cried Bran, ecstatically. "I'll come."
"I'll bring him back safely to you after lunch."
"Of course," said Val, smiling radiantly. It is on record that martyrs could radiantly smile even when the slow fire was applied.
So he and Bran were dropped at the Metropole, not without many proprietary grumblings from Haidee and warnings from Rupert that he would be back to join them ere long. The car drove off amidst a shower of shouts and calls and farewells. Only Val sat silent under her poppies.