“There’s a good train—” Mrs. Jones began, with calm persistence, but Ross interrupted.
“No, thanks,” he said. “I’d like to see Miss Solway first.”
His own words surprised him a little. After all, why on earth should he want to see this Miss Solway? A few hours ago he had been greatly annoyed at the thought of having to do so; he would have been only too glad never to see or to hear of her again.
“It’s because I don’t like being made such a fool of,” he thought.
For the first time since she had entered the room, Mrs. Jones’s calm was disturbed. She came nearer to him, and looked into his face with obvious anxiety, speaking very low, and far more respectfully.
“It would be much better not to!” she said. “Much better, sir, if you’ll just go away—”
“I want to see Miss Solway,” Ross repeated. “There’s been a mistake, and I want to explain.”
“I know that, sir!” she whispered. “Of course, as soon as I saw you, I knew you weren’t Mr. Ross. But—”
“Look here!” said Ross, bluntly. “What’s it all about, anyhow?”
“There was a little difficulty, sir,” said Mrs. Jones, still in a whisper. “But it’s all over now.”