The porter who showed them over was patently proud of his charge.
“She’ll go on Monday,” he said. “If you don’t take ’er, madam, there’s plenty as will.”
It was long after six when at last the two emerged, swearing to be at the agents’ on Monday at nine o’clock.
As they slid back to St. James’s—
“Aren’t you thankful I made you come?” piped Julia.
“You darling,” said Hubert and put her hand to his lips. . . .
An hour had gone by, and Challenger, refreshed and comforted, was on the point of taking his leave when Julia knitted her brows.
“I suppose we’re wise,” she said.
Her fiancé stared.
“What—what d’you mean—‘wise’?” he stammered.