Sylvia said very nearly with timidity—and again a dark thought went over Tietjens' mind:
"Do we meet again then? . . . I know you're very busy. . . ."
Tietjens said:
"Yes. I'll come and pick you out from Lady Job's, if they don't keep me too long at the War Office. I'm dining, as you know, at Macmaster's; I don't suppose I shall stop late."
"I'd come," Sylvia said, "to Macmaster's, if you thought it was appropriate. I'd bring Claudine Sandbach and General Wade. We're only going to the Russian dancers. We'd cut off early."
Tietjens could settle that sort of thought very quickly.
"Yes, do," he said hurriedly. "It would be appreciated."
He got to the door: he came back: his brother was nearly through. He said to Sylvia, and for him the occasion was a very joyful one:
"I've worried out some of the words of that song. It runs:
'Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen: the voice not heard . . .'