"Will you dine with me to-night?" he asked suddenly.
She turned toward him quickly—and understood.
"Very nice of you," she replied lightly. "I shall go round to my club. You don't agree with me, somehow. When I look at you or think of you, I feel inclined either to laugh or cry, and I hate emotions. Don't get out, please. You see, they are opening the door already."
She slipped away and disappeared into her house. John drove slowly back toward the Milan. Just as he was turning in, a little waterproofed figure from the pavement waved her hand and called to him. He drew up and she hastened to his side.
"What are you doing here?" Sophy asked. "I thought you were spending the week-end up the river."
"I stayed there last night," he answered. "To-day—well, look at the weather! I have just motored Lady Hilda up."
"And what are you going to do now?" she inquired eagerly.
"Give you some dinner," he replied promptly.
"Hurrah!" she answered. "I have been so bored and miserable that I went and walked over Waterloo Bridge in a mackintosh, just to get a little air. I'll be round in an hour. Will that do?"
"Any time you like," he agreed; "the sooner the better. I was almost wishing, a few minutes ago," he went on, "that I could find the courage to storm you in your little room. Louise is away, and I'm hating myself."