She held out her hand with a little impulsive gesture. He took it in his own, and held it steadfastly.
"I will remember," he promised.
Along the narrow streak of road, from the southward, they both watched the rapid approach of a large motor-car. There were two servants upon the front seat and one passenger—a man—inside. It swung into the level stretch beneath them, a fantasy of gray and silver in the reflected sunshine.
Louise had been leaning forward, her head supported upon her hands. As the car slackened speed, she rose very slowly to her feet.
"The chariot of deliverance!" she murmured.
"It is the Prince of Seyre," John remarked, gazing down with a slight frown upon his forehead.
She nodded. They had started the descent, and she was walking in very leisurely fashion.
"The prince is a great friend of mine," she said. "I had promised to spend last night, or, at any rate, some portion of the evening, at Raynham Castle on my way to London."
He summoned up courage to ask her the question which had been on his lips more than once.
"As your stay with us is so nearly over, won't you abandon your incognito?"