"And I hope you'll get a good dog at Dover," she said, smiling. "I shall think of you. You see, I'm going by Folkestone and Boulogne."
In silence I bent over the slight fingers. Slowly they slipped away.
I opened the door. Then I turned to the girl.
"You know," I said, "the Folkestone dogs."
"At last," said Berry, as the car swung into line in Kensington Gore, about a furlong from the doors of the Albert Hall. "A short hour and a quarter, and we shall be there. Can anyone tell me why I consented to come?"
"To please yourself," said Daphne shortly.
"Wrong," said her husband. "The correct answer will appear in our next issue. Five million consolation prizes will be awarded to those who, in the opinion of—"
"Have you got the tickets?" said his wife.
"Tickets!" said Berry contemptuously. "I've had to put my handkerchief in my shoe, and my cigarette-case has lodged slightly to the right and six inches below my heart. You'll have to make a ring round me, if I want to smoke."
"Have you got the tickets?" said Daphne.