At length—
“I should bring an action,” she flamed, “for Breach of Promise.”
Mournfully Hubert shook his head.
“I’ve nothing in writing,” he said. “Besides, it’s the symbol I want. So the correct action would be one for Detinue. I wonder which one you dropped it in,” he added musingly. “I seem to remember some felt being down somewhere, and it may have been there. That would account for our not hearing it fall.” He knitted his brows. “Now, where was that blinkin’ felt? Oh, I know. It was at The Eighty-nine Steps.”
“Must you rush off?” said Julia shakily.
“Must, I’m afraid,” said Hubert, opening the door. “Sleep well, sweetheart. I’ll ring up one day next week—just to say I’m alive.”
A moment later he let himself out of the house.
Twenty-four hours had gone by.
“George,” said Miss Willow, “do you love me?”