“I won’t,” said Rupert. “Now, don’t start to argue, Léonie, for God’s sake! The last time I went to France with you I got a bullet in my shoulder.”
“I find you ridiculous,” Léonie said severely. “Who is to shoot bullets at you now?”
“If it comes to that, I wouldn’t put it above Vidal, if I go meddling in his concerns. I tell you I won’t have a hand in it.”
“Very well,” Léonie said, and walked to the door.
Rupert watched her uneasily. “What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I am going to France,” said Léonie.
His lordship requested her to have sense; she looked woodenly at him. He pointed out to her the extreme folly of her behaviour; she yawned, and opened the door. His lordship swore roundly and capitulated. He was rewarded by a beaming smile.
“You are very kind to me, Rupert,” her grace said enthusiastically. “We will go at once, do you not think? For I am late already, five days.”
“If you’re five days behind that young devil you’re too late altogether, m’dear,” said his lordship sensibly. “Lord, Avon will murder me for this!”
“Of course he will not murder you!” said Léonie. “He will not know anything about it. When shall we start?”