“I hope that we may meet again before long, Lord Wolfenden,” he said. “In the meantime let me assure you once more of my sincere gratitude.”
The girl leaned forward over the apron of the cab.
“And may I not add mine too?” she said. “I almost wish that we were not going to the ‘Milan’ again to-night. I am afraid that I shall be nervous.”
She looked straight at Wolfenden. He was ridiculously happy.
“I can promise,” he said, “that no harm shall come to Mr. Sabin to-night, at any rate. I shall be at the ‘Milan’ myself, and I will keep a very close look out.”
“How reassuring!” she exclaimed, with a brilliant smile. “Lord Wolfenden is going to be at the ‘Milan’ to-night,” she added, turning to Mr. Sabin. “Why don’t you ask him to join us? I shall feel so much more comfortable.”
There was a faint but distinct frown on Mr. Sabin’s face—a distinct hesitation before he spoke. But Wolfenden would notice neither. He was looking over Mr. Sabin’s shoulder, and his instructions were very clear.
“If you will have supper with us we shall be very pleased,” Mr. Sabin said stiffly; “but no doubt you have already made your party. Supper is an institution which one seldom contemplates alone.”
“I am quite free, and I shall be delighted,” Wolfenden said without hesitation. “About eleven, I suppose?”