"Violet," he began.
She started.
"I beg your pardon," she said. "I did not recognise you."
"Haven't you been told," he asked stiffly, "that the Terrace is unsafe for women after twilight?"
"Very often," she assented, with that little smile at the corners of her lips which once he had found so charming and which now half maddened him. "Unfortunately, I have a propensity for doing things which are dangerous. Besides, I have my maid."
"Another woman is no protection," he declared.
"Susanne can shriek," Lady Hunterleys assured him. "She has wonderful lungs and she loves to use them. She would shriek at the least provocation."
"And meanwhile," Hunterleys observed drily, "while she is indulging in her vocal exercises, things happen. If you wish to promenade here, permit me to be your escort."
She hesitated for a moment, frowning. Then she continued her walk.
"You are very kind," she assented. "Perhaps you are like me, though, and feel the restfulness of a quiet place after these throngs and throngs of people."