Then—
“I’d better telephone now,” said Mrs. Willoughby. “There’s only one thing you haven’t thought of, Crip. Obviously David and I can’t continue our raids. How’s that to be explained? Nell will want to know why.”
Crispin removed his pipe and regarded its bowl.
“I know,” he said. “We’ll say Aunt Millicent’s ill and burst off to Como at once. A couple of weeks in Italy’ll suit me down to the ground.”
“And me,” said Madge. “Give me the home of romance.”
“But not its occupant?”
“No—unless she can show a good title.”
Husband and wife smiled.
Arrived at the door, Madge paused.
“I suppose you must go out,” she said wistfully.