“Let’s go up to the Rat Mort if we’re going,” Ella exclaimed. “It’s dull here, and I’m tired of seeing that yellow-headed girl make eyes at you.”
Macheson laughed and drained his glass.
“Au Rat Mort!” he cried. “Good!”
They paid the bill and all trooped out. The fair-haired girl caught at Macheson’s hand as he passed.
“Au Rat Mort?” she whispered.
She threw a meaning glance at Ella.
“Monsieur is well guarded,” she said softly.
“Malheureusement!” he answered, smiling.
Davenant drew him on one side as the girls went for their cloaks.
“I say, old chap,” he began, “aren’t you trying Ella a bit high? She’s not a bad-tempered girl, you know, but I’m afraid there’ll be a row soon.”