He did not dare to look at her.
"Perhaps that is true of all the good things in the world," she hazarded.
"Perhaps."
Once again the golden mist—once again the aching yearning.
The telephone jangled harshly. It was a warning from the world beyond the hedge, the world they had forgotten.
The sound of it was to him like the savage clang of barbaric war-gongs.
With her permission he answered it himself. It was a message from his man at the Waldorf.
"He's making an awful fuss, sir. He says as how he wants to go home. I can hold him all right, only I thought I 'd let you know."
"Thanks, I 'll be right down."
"I 'd better go back to your brother," he said to her as he hung up the receiver. "I want to have a talk with him before bringing him home."