“Shall I go and look for her, and tell her you’re tired of waiting?”
“Oh no, I could scarcely permit that, since I got out of helping her by saying I was tired—as indeed I am—and that I should like the rest out here.”
“You do look as if you wanted rest,” said Gerard steadily. “I am sure you work too hard. Not only at your social duties, and your designs, but—in other ways.”
Miss Davison’s pale face flushed suddenly.
“What other ways?” she asked quietly.
“You do a good deal in the way of journalism, I think,” he said.
“Do I? How do you know?”
“Do you remember the night of the fête at Lord Chislehurst’s, when the king and queen were expected?”
Miss Davison did not reply in words. But she changed her attitude, and sitting upright, bowed her head as a sign to him to go on.
“There was a tremendous crowd outside, and I saw you there.”