"Don't agitate yourself," said Jack. "It's all serene. He is thoroughly enjoying himself. Where are you two off to? Going to sit out in the dark? Shall I come and mount guard?"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" protested Chris. "Jack, remember our dance is the next."
Jack bowed with his hand on his heart. "I don't forget such things. Make the most of your time, Trevor. It's nearly up."
He departed with a careless swagger, and Chris turned to her quiet companion and gave a little shiver. "Why did we leave off dancing? I'm cold."
He led her across the hall to a settee. Someone had thrown a scarf upon it. He put it round her shoulders.
"It isn't mine," she said, "and it isn't that sort of cold either. I hope
Aunt Philippa isn't teasing Bertie. Do you think she is?"
"I think he can take care of himself," Mordaunt said.
"Do you? I don't. Aunt Philippa is sure to say horrid things to him. I think we ought to go and find them—really."
There was a note of pleading in her voice, but Mordaunt did not respond to it. He sat and contemplated her, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
He leaned forward at last and spoke very quietly. "Chris," he said, "forgive me for asking, but—you have paid your debts?"