"Did I tell you I'd any friends there?"
The sound of his voice was perhaps less hoarse than puzzled. Toye made himself chuckle as he sat looking up out of somber eyes.
"Well, if you didn't," said he, "I guess I must have dreamed it!"
X THE WEEK OF THEIR LIVES
"Toye's gone back to Italy," said Cazalet. "He says he may be away only a week. Let's make it the week of our lives!"
The scene was the little room it pleased Blanche to call her parlor, and the time a preposterously early hour of the following forenoon. Cazalet might have 'planed down from the skies into her sunny snuggery, though his brand-new Burberry rather suggested another extravagant taxicab. But Blanche saw only his worn excited face; and her own was not at its best in her sheer amazement.
If she had heard the last two sentences, to understand them at the time she would have felt bound to take them up first, and to ask how on earth Mr. Toye could affect her plans or pleasures. But such was the effect of the preceding statement that all the rest was several moments on the way to her comprehension, where it arrived, indeed, more incomprehensible than ever, but not worth making a fuss about then.
"Italy!" she had ejaculated meanwhile. "When did he go?"