‘Much better,’ said the Canon, who didn’t see how to do it.
He looked about for a way of escape.
There wasn’t one, except by climbing over to the cows, and that would involve them in trespass. Besides, retreat should be dignified.
‘But where——?’ Mrs. Luke was whispering, her cheek against Jocelyn’s, while with one hand she still clung hold of his neck. ‘Salvatia——?’
‘In the sitting-room,’ whispered Jocelyn. ‘I put her there. I wanted to see you first alone. Why on earth those Walkers are here to-day of all days——’
He glanced at the scene on the lawn, where the Canon and his wife, marooned at the untidy tea-table, were trying to seem absorbed in something that wasn’t happening up above their heads in the branches of the cedar.
‘You said supper-time——’
‘But I scorched to get to you quickly——’
‘Then you wanted me?’