He exchanged a civil word with the girl’s companion, who was taciturn almost to insolence. Then he passed on and joined Holderness, who was waiting near the door.
“An oddly assorted couple, your friends,” he remarked, as they struggled into their coats.
Macheson nodded.
“The girl was my landlady’s daughter at Thorpe, and the young man’s the son of the agent there,” he said.
“Engaged?” Holderness asked.
“I’m—afraid not,” Macheson answered. “She’s up on an excursion—for the day—goes back at twelve.”
“I suppose he’s a decent fellow—the agent’s son?” Holderness remarked. “She seems such a child.”
“I suppose he is,” Macheson repeated. “I don’t care for him very much, Dick; I suppose I’m an evil-minded person, but I hate leaving them.”
Holderness looked back into the restaurant.
“You can’t interfere,” he said. “It’s probably a harmless frolic enough. Come on!”