“Not till the first,” she replied. “Which brings us to June.”
“August,” corrected Virgil. “August. July—August—Sept——”
“June Townshend,” said Sarah shortly.
Pardoner started and dropped his cigarette.
“What about her?” he said uneasily. “She wouldn’t like Dinard. She’s a—a clergyman’s daughter.”
Sarah bowed before a little gust of laughter.
Then—
“Have you written to her?” she demanded.
“Er, no. Not yet. I mean, it’s a delicate matter.”
“Virgil,” said Miss Vulliamy. “Unless you write to her to-day, I won’t marry you.”