Out on the verandah he made his plans. Not for fifty Marquesses would he leave ere the change had come. He decided to telegraph to the butler. Perhaps they would understand. Any way, it could not be helped. If he were to be dismissed, he would try again. Only the fear of unemployment had kept him in Eaton Square. The very thought of Lord Pomfret made his blood boil. Perhaps, even if they said nothing, it would be better to leave.
He picked up my lady's Times….
The trouble was that the demand for men-servants seemed rather small. Married couples, apparently, were all the rage. Of course he was getting good wages. The substance might not be toothsome, but it was better than shadow. At least, you could get your teeth into it.
WANTED.—A gentleman-footman: country: good wages: would be allowed to keep dog. BOX Y779, c/o The Times, E.C.4.
Anthony stared at the lines as if they were unreal….
Then came the flutter of a frock and herself stepped on to the veranda.
Mechanically Anthony set down the paper as if it had been contagious.
Valerie did not speak of her terrier, nor did she ask after Patch.
Instead—
"If we went up to the house," she said gravely, "I think they would give us some tea." Together they left the veranda and passed through the pleasant grounds. "I've got a room in the village," she added, "and I've sent for some things for the night. Will—will you have to go?"
"No. I shall stay. I can make shift." He smiled. "The Army's a good school."
"Do you wish you were back?" said Valerie.