They had agreed in their estimate of the potency of an atmosphere. He thought it was Miss Marchrose herself who had said that "the worst times are when nothing at all has happened, and yet everything is happening."
Prophetic, reflected Julian, half amused. He made his way slowly to Mark Easter's room.
A feminine voice, lowered to that penetrating sibilance which most infallibly attracts the attention which it is designed to escape, reached his ears.
"——And she knew I was looking at her, too. I could tell she did, by the way she coloured. You know. And I never said a word. Simply looked at her, you know. 'Don't let me disturb you,' I said. Like that, quite quietly."
Sir Julian pushed the half-open door. Miss Farmer and Miss Sandiloe stood in close confabulation just inside the room.
"Oh, good morning, Sir Julian." They both looked much confused.
"Good morning," he said gravely. "Mr. Easter has not arrived yet?"
"No," said Miss Sandiloe, ever ready of speech, in spite of her manifest discomfiture.
"No, he hasn't. He very often gets in rather later these mornings."
"I can wait," said Sir Julian. "It's not ten o'clock yet."