“And that’s Miss Solway!” said Donnelly, speculatively.
Ross glanced at him, and his heart gave a great leap. For, on the other’s face, was an unmistakable look of perplexity.
“Yes,” he said, “that’s Miss Solway.”
“She’s pretty young, isn’t she?” Donnelly pursued, still following with his eyes the hurrying little figure.
“I suppose so,” said Ross, casually. It was difficult for him to conceal his delight. Donnelly was evidently at a loss; he couldn’t believe ill of that girl with her careless smile. He thought she was too young, too light-hearted. The very fact of her ignoring Ross’s warning had done this for her. If she had understood, if across her smiling face had come that look Ross had seen, that look of terror and dismay, Donnelly would not have thought her too young.
“He’s not sure now!” thought Ross. “He’s not sure. She has a chance now. If I can only think of something.”
He could not think of anything useful now, but he felt sure that he would, later on. There was a chance now. Donnelly was only human; he, like other men, could be deluded.
They left the garage and walked back to the waiting taxi.
“What about a little lunch first?” suggested Donnelly.
“All right!” said Ross.