“Let’s leave at five, Toby.”
“Five!” screamed Toby. “Why, that’s B.C.—Before Cock-crow. You oughtn’t to talk about such hours.”
“All right,” said Cicely. “I’ll get someone else to take me. I wonder if Teddy Bligh would.”
“Firkin’s the man,” said Rage. “He’s mug enough for anything. You ask Firkin.”
A dreamy look stole into Cicely’s eyes.
“The trouble is,” she said, “that either of them’ll make love.”
“Well, it would be asking for trouble, wouldn’t it, Cicely dear? Up at dawn, and then hey! for the mountains in the half-light and a two-seater. What?”
“Don’t you think,” said Miss Voile, “that, as I want to so much, it’d be a friendly act if you were to step into the breach?”
“I think it’d be more than friendly,” said Rage. “Almost—almost familiar.”
“Once you’re up,” said Cicely, “you feel most awfully fit.”