“Will they know you’re coming?”
“I shall telegraph from London.”
“Francie, you say you’re a moral coward, and yet you’ve planned everything out like this! What would you do supposing you met Cousin Bertie on your way to the station? It might quite easily happen.”
Frances whitened instantly.
“I’d thought of that, but her meeting is at two o’clock, and they’re sure to go early. Cousin Bertie always does. So they’ll be having luncheon at one o’clock, and you know Mrs. Severing hardly ever has the motor out in the mornings. So I don’t think there’s any real chance of it.”
“I suppose not,” said Rosamund drearily. “What on earth will she say when she comes back and finds you’ve gone?”
“Oh, Rosamund, it will be so dreadful for you! I’ll leave a letter for her, and then you won’t have to tell her.”
“What about Cousin Frederick and Miss Blandflower?”
“Cousin Frederick hardly ever comes in to luncheon, and he’s quite likely not to notice that I’m not at dinner. Even if he does, he’ll probably think I’ve just gone to bed or something—you know he never bothers. I’m afraid Miss Blandflower will have to know at dinner-time, but she won’t be in herself for luncheon.”
“How do you know?”