Peter Every glanced at his watch.
"Twenty-past twelve!" he cried. "George, no! I'll have to put her along. I suppose you won't come on and lunch with us, sir? We'd love it, and we can drop you here on the way back."
"Yes, do," urged Joan.
Anthony shook his head.
"You're very kind," he said, smiling, "but I've any amount to do. When you live alone, and you've only one day a week…"
"I'm sorry," said Every. "Still, if you won't…"
He let in the clutch.
"Good-bye," said Anthony.
"Good-bye," cried the others.
The car slid forward.