Gheena's look of gloom deepened as she eyed the offender's grey tweed suit.
"I came to tell you news," Stafford said. "A submarine sighted off Cortra harbour last night, and again not far from here."
"Someone here is supplying them with petrol," said Gheena—"someone."
"There are tales of strange motor-cars seen about at night," said Darby thoughtfully.
Psyche's grey was a little lame; she remembered it now, jumping up to drag Darby out to know what was wrong. "Because there will be a meet to-morrow and I want to go," she whispered.
Gheena, left alone with Stafford, remarked intelligently that the evening was chilly.
"You are very down on me, Miss Freyne"—he looked down at her, his arm on the old marble mantelshelf—"because I don't join the army."
Gheena said "Then why don't you?" her cheeks fiery.
"Well, at present I can't. There are the drains, and other reasons."
"To prepare potato ground for Germans," said Gheena, "ought not to be one. As for other reasons——" Her eyes flashed.