As he wheeled his bicycle into the coach-house of the hotel, Dorothy ran into it, caught him by the arm, and cried, "Did they fight? Is your father hurt?"
He looked at her white, strained face, and said with a dogged air, "My father's all right. What do you mean about fighting? I—I've been for a ride—on my bicycle."
"Then you did stop it!" cried Dorothy; and before he could ward her off she had kissed him.
"Look here," said Tinker firmly, but gently, "these things won't bear talking about. They won't really."
CHAPTER TWELVE
TINKER BORROWS A MOTOR-CAR
A few days later, early in the afternoon, Sir Tancred was leaning on the wall of the gardens of the Temple of Fortune, smoking a cigarette, and looking down on the Mediterranean in a very thoughtful mood. Tinker was by his side, also looking down on the Mediterranean, also silent, out of respect to his father's mood.
Suddenly Sir Tancred turned towards him, and said abruptly, "What did you say you paid your governess?"
"Thirty pounds a year," said Tinker.