"Afraid I'm taking you rather at unawares," said the young man, in a suave Oxford voice. "Unexpectedly I found myself free—"
His eyes fell upon Constance Bride, and for a moment he was mute; then he stepped towards her, and, with an air of peculiar frankness, of comrade-like understanding, extended his hand.
"How do you do, Miss Connie! Delighted to find you here—Mother, glad to see you." He touched Mrs. Lashmar's forehead with his lips. "Well, father? Uncommonly pleasant to be at the vicarage again!"
Miss Bride had stood up, and was now advancing towards the hostess.
"You must go?" said Mrs. Lashmar, with her most agreeable smile.
"What, going?" exclaimed Dyce. "Why? Are you staying in the village?"
"No. I must catch a train."
"What train?"
"'The six forty-five."
"Why, then you have plenty of time! Mother, bid Miss Connie be seated; I haven't had a moment's talk with her; it's absurd. Six forty-five? You needn't leave here for twenty minutes. What a lucky thing that I came in just now."