They looked out across the harbour. The smoke was pouring from the funnels of the destroyer. Already she had swung around and was steaming slowly towards the Channel.
“She’s off, right enough!” Granet exclaimed. “Nothing left for us, then, but London.”
CHAPTER XII
Geraldine, a few hours later, set down the telephone receiver with a little sigh of resignation. Lady Conyers glanced up inquiringly from her book.
“Was that some one wanting to come and see you at this time of night, Geraldine?” she asked.
Geraldine yawned.
“It’s Hugh,” she explained. “He has rung up from the War Office or somewhere—says he has just got back from France and wants to see me at once. I think he might have waited till to-morrow morning. I can scarcely keep my eyes open, I am so sleepy.”
Lady Conyers glanced at the clock.
“It isn’t really so late,” she remarked, “and I dare say, if the poor man’s been travelling all day, he’d like to say good-night to you.”