“Blanche Maitland! Why not?” quoth Carruthers, squirting soda-water into a glass. “Devilish fine girl. What!”
Dare held the door open for Mrs Carruthers.
“You’ve entrusted it to quite capable hands, you see,” he said. “The worst of it is, old Dick is so hopelessly frank. That is exactly how a man would describe her, and that is exactly how I wouldn’t choose to have my wife described. You’ll have to try again, Connie.”
She placed her hand affectionately on his sleeve.
“You are rather a dear, George,” she said softly, and passed out, leaving the astonished man to close the door behind her.
It took a clever woman to accept defeat gracefully, he reflected.
Chapter Ten.
The week Dare had promised himself at Wynberg overlapped and ran into the better part of three weeks. He gave as his reason for this extension of his holiday that he was enjoying himself, and that he felt he needed the rest.