"A future prima donna," he said, "should go to bed at ten o'clock."
She opened the door for him and walked down the path, her hands clasped in his arm.
"A future prima donna," she retorted, "can't do always what she likes. If I go to bed too early I cannot sleep. To-night I am excited and nervous. There isn't anything likely to bring trouble upon—them, is there?"
"Certainly not," he replied promptly. "Your brother is full of enterprise, as you know. He runs a certain amount of risk in his eagerness to acquire news, but I never knew a man so well able to take care of himself."
"And—and Mr. Briston?"
"Oh, he's all right, anyway," Hunterleys assured her. "His is the smaller part."
She breathed a little sigh of relief. They had reached the gate. She still had something to say. Below them flared the lights of Monte Carlo. She looked down at them almost wistfully.
"Very soon," she murmured, "I shall know my fate. Sir Henry," she added suddenly, "did I see Lady Hunterleys to-day on the Terrace?"
"Lady Hunterleys is here," he replied.
"Am I—ought I to go and see her?" she enquired. "You see, you have done so much for me, I should like to do what you thought best."