Willoughby did as he was bid.
It was when the meal was over that Spring put her elbows on the table and knitted her brows.
“I want your advice.”
“That’s very easy,” said Bagot. “Let sleeping suits lie, and Grooms of the Chambers do their own dirty work.”
The red lips tightened.
“Thanks very much,” said Spring. “Perhaps I ought to have said that the advice I want is upon a matter upon which I value your opinion.”
Willoughby considered his finger-nails.
“I’ve got an awfully good answer to that,” he said. “A regular winner.”
“What?” suspiciously.
“Can’t think of it for the moment,” said Willoughby, “but——”