“Yes!” she admitted.
“Why?”
She looked up and down a little helplessly.
“I owe you no explanation for my conduct,” she said. “Please let me pass.”
“Could we talk for a few minutes, please?” he begged. “Tell me where you were going?”
“Oh, back to lunch, I suppose,” she answered.
“Your father has been up, looking for you,” he told her.
“I telephoned to The Sanctuary,” she replied. “He had just left.”
“I am very anxious,” he continued, “not to distress you, but I cannot let you go away like this. Will you come to my rooms and let us talk for a little time?”
She made no answer. Somehow, he realised that speech just then was difficult. He called a taxi and handed her in. They drove to Clarges Street in silence. He led the way up the stairs, gave some quick orders to his servant whom he met coming down, ushered her into his sitting-room and saw her ensconced in an easy-chair.