“Hallo, old chap, you haven’t been long!” remarked Cecil, rising reluctantly.
“I should have been here before,” I answered, looking steadily at Milly, “but I took a wrong turning and got round the back of this place somehow. Saw you, didn’t I, Miss Milly?” I remarked.
She raised her eyebrows and looked at me wonderingly out of her placid blue eyes.
“Me? Oh, no! I have only just come downstairs, have I not, Cecil? It must have been one of the maids.”
Milly and I exchanged a steady gaze, her eyes meeting mine without drooping and her manner betraying only a mild surprise. It was a revelation to me, a lesson which I did not easily forget.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” I said, turning away. “It was rather dark and no doubt I was mistaken. Strange, too; I thought it was de Cartienne with whom you were talking.”
Cecil laughed carelessly.
“My dear fellow, you must have been dreaming,” he said; “de Cartienne has not been here at all.”
“Ready, Cecil?” I asked, abandoning the subject. “I think we’ve kept Bess waiting about long enough.”
“I’ll come,” he replied, drawing on his gloves. “I’ve scarcely had a moment with you, Milly, though, have I? No news?”