iv
At first Emmy could not understand. She stood, puzzled, unable to collect her thoughts.
“Jenny!” at last she said, unbelievingly. Accusing impulses showed in her face. The softer mood, just passing, was replaced by one of anger. “Well, I must say it’s like you,” Emmy concluded. “I’m not to have a moment out of the house. I can’t even leave you....”
“Half-an-hour after you’d gone,” urged Jenny, “I got a note from Keith.”
“Keith!” It was Emmy’s sign that she had noted the name.
“I told you.... He’d only got the one evening in London.”
“Couldn’t he have come here?”
“He mustn’t leave his ship. I didn’t know what to do. At first I thought I couldn’t go. But the man was waiting—”
“Man!” cried Emmy. “What man?”
“The chauffeur.”