“Whatever d’you mean?” said Miss Vulliamy, striving to keep her voice steady.
“Nothing doing,” said Virgil, continuing to smile. “Admit it’s a plant.”
“By all that’s solemn,” said Sarah. “I swear I’ve nothing to do with it.”
“But you’ve——”
“I haven’t, Virgil. I swear I haven’t, I’ld—I’ld be ashamed,” she added tearfully.
Three times did her betrothed endeavour to speak.
At the fourth attempt—
“Must be some mistake,” he muttered, wiping his brow. Then he turned to the page. “All right. I’ll come.”
He bowed an apology to Sarah and followed his executioner out of the room. . . .
Of the two, Sarah was, if possible, the more dumbfounded.