Vandermere was conscious that in some way the girl by his side was changed. She drew a little away from him.
“Very well,” she said, “I shall be pleased to go in and see her. You do not mind, Maurice?”
“Not at all,” he answered. “If I may be allowed, I will come with you.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then Saton spoke—quietly, regretfully.
“I am so sorry,” he said, “but the Comtesse de Vestinges—my adopted mother,” he explained, with a little bow—“receives no one. She is old, and her health is not of the best. A visit from Miss Champneyes always does her good.”
Lois looked up at her companion.
“Perhaps,” she said, “you will have a cigarette in the lane.”
“I am sorry to seem inhospitable,” Saton said smoothly. “If Captain Vandermere will come up to the house, my study is at his service, and I can give him some cigarettes which I think he would find passable.”
“Thank you,” Vandermere answered, a little gruffly, “I’ll wait out here. Remember, Lois,” he added, turning towards her, “that we are expected home to play bridge directly after tea.”