“Cannot she wait?” he asked. “I too have never seen the real you before.”
“No, dear, we must go. There is to-morrow, all the to-morrows.”
“And to think that it has only been yesterday until this evening,” he said. “There is Lady Monica, looking for you.”
Lady Monica had a practised eye. She kept everything she had in excellent practise; there was nothing rusty about her.
“Stella dear, I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “Are you better? Has Mr. Challoner been taking care of you?”
That was sufficient.
“Stella says I may,” said he.
Lady Monica checked her exclamation of “Thank God!” as being a shade too business-like.
“Ah, dear Mr. Martin,” she said. “How nice, how very, very nice! Stella, my dearest. How secret you have been. Come, darling, we must go. I can’t talk to either of you in this crowd. But how nice! We shall see you to-morrow? Come to lunch, quite, quite quietly.”
Stella looked at him.