Christina choked. "Don't say funny things when I'm eating candy," she begged.
VII
The revue had reached its seventh scene before Beryl and her escort were shown into the big stage box of the Pavilion. She had hardly taken her seat before she saw a familiar face in the stalls.
"Isn't that Mr. Moropulos?" she asked, and following the direction of her eyes he nodded. The Greek did not appear to have noticed them. He was conspicuous as being the only man in that row of the stalls who was not wearing evening dress.
"Yes, that is Moropulos. Don't let him see you, Beryl."
Apparently Mr. Moropulos did not identify the pair, for though he turned his head in their direction he showed no sign of recognition. Half-way through the last part of the revue, he disappeared and they did not see him again.
"And now home. It has been a jolly afternoon and evening," said Beryl as they came out.
Ronnie was looking round for his car. "What a fool I am," he said. "I told Parker not to wait—for some extraordinary reason I imagined your car would be here. We'll have to take a taxi."
The cab had hardly started before he tapped at the window and leaning out, gave a fresh direction.