"Major Lyveden."
The Elégie died a sudden discordant death, and Valerie started to her feet.
"Where?"
The flame of the inquiry scorched Peter Every's ears.
Dropping the map and getting uncertainly upon his feet, he demanded aggrievedly to be told what on earth was the matter….
On trying subsequently coherently to recall what had happened in the next five minutes, he found his memory pardonably confused.
Valerie had taken him by the shoulders and shaken him like a rat: she had hurled at his head an unending stream of questions—all about Lyveden, and, when he had hesitated, had shaken him again; when he had tried to protest, she had put her hand over his mouth; when she had clearly exhausted his memory, she had announced that they would go up to Town the next day, and that on Sunday morning, sun, rain, or snow, he would motor her down to where Lyveden dwelt; then she had said she was sorry she'd shaken him, smiled him a maddening smile, told him, with a rare blush, that Anthony Lyveden was "the most wonderful man in the world," kissed him between the eyes, and then darted out of the room, calling for Lady Touchstone….
Sitting that night upon the edge of his bed, with his hands in his pockets and a pipe in his mouth, staring moodily upon the carpet, Peter had thought ruefully upon his shattered fortune.
"Blinkin' fine week-end," he muttered, "I don't think. I roll up for a hunt an' a dart at the most priceless girl that ever was foaled, an' I lose the one an' am roped in to help the other to another cove." He laughed bitterly. "'Minds me of a drama-play. S'pose I'm cast for the perishin' strong man wot 'ides 'is bleedin' 'eart." He flung out a dramatic arm. "'Reenunciation, 'Erbert, 'ath its reeward.' (Loud and prolonged cheers.) Well, well…." He rose to his feet and stretched luxuriously. "It's all the same in a hundred years, and so long as she's happy…" And with that little candle of truly handsome philosophy Mr. Peter Every lighted himself to bed.
Upon the following Sunday, at a quarter before midday, he set Miss French down upon the London road at the spot at which he and Joan had met Lyveden a fortnight before.