They paired off together as much as they could, during his remaining fortnight at Les Avants. But Upton was with a large party of uncles and cousins; and Patricia could not often desert her mother and Ann and Hetty, who regarded her as indispensable to their enjoyment. So that their mutual appetites for the other's sole society was keenly whetted by frustration. And once, during a lively and convivial excursion, Dacres remarked to Patricia, in strictly matter-of-fact tones:
"To Hell with all these braying barbarians. Next Christmas we're coming here alone for a week. Don't forget—December the twenty-third, Charing Cross, in time for the boat-train."
His voice blended quite naturally with the general conversation in progress; and nobody overheard.
"Shall we see that Upton man in London, Pat?" enquired Hetty, on the eve of departure.
"I expect so. He told me his regiment was recalled for a good long bout of home service."
"I don't like him."
"Alack, Shrimpet! and I love him passionately."
Six weeks later, and Patricia would have suppressed that remark for the very truth of it....
Almost directly on their return, Patricia was informed that a gentleman was waiting to see her in her own sitting-room—as the eldest of the girls, Mrs. O'Neill considered her entitled to this luxury—and found Dacres leaning up against the fireplace.
"You're a dangerous creature," he informed her gently, without further greeting.