"She seemed to be taking Brandy out for his morning exercise," said he surlily. "Far be it from me to—Umph!"
Sara repressed the start of surprise. She thought Hetty was alone.
"She will bring him in for luncheon, I suppose," she said carelessly, although there was a slight contraction of the eyelids. "He is a privileged character."
It was long past the luncheon hour when Hetty came in, flushed and warm. She was alone and she had been walking rapidly.
"Oh, I am so sorry to be late," she apologised, darting a look of anxiety at Sara. "We grew careless with time. Am I shockingly late?"
She was shaking hands with Mrs. Redmond Wrandall as she spoke. Leslie and Vivian stood by, rigidly awaiting their turn. Neither appeared to be especially cordial.
"What is the passing of an hour, my dear," said the old lady, "to one who is young and can spare it?"
"I did not expect you—I mean to say, nothing was said about luncheon, was there, Sara?" She was in a pretty state of confusion.
"No," said Leslie, breaking in; "we butted in, that's all. How are you?" He clasped her hand and bent over it. She was regarding him with slightly dilated eyes. He misinterpreted the steady scrutiny. "Oh, it will all peel off in a day or two," he explained, going a shade redder.
"When did you return?" she asked. "I thought to-morrow was—"