Robin threw her a straight look under his lashes. “I’m to understand you had it in mind to meet Rensley with never a word to me?”
“Just, child. Don’t eat me!”
“I’m more likely to beat you. You must be mad indeed!”
She perceived him to be in something of a rage, and made haste to divert him. “I’ve to thank Sir Anthony, for my deliverance. What have you to say to that?”
“You’re of opinion he has your secret? You must have been mighty indiscreet!”
“Not a whit. I’ve given not the smallest reason for him to suspect me, I swear. Unless — ” She broke off, frowning. “There was the little matter of staying with him at Wych End. No more.”
Robin shrugged that aside. “I hold to my opinion. But if he suspects — why, it seems he’s a mind to keep his counsel.”
“It’s a comfortable belief, child. Give you joy of it. I dine with him tomorrow. Be sure, I step warily.”
In another part of the town there was a gentleman quite as shocked as Mr Belfort over the morning’s happenings, and infinitely more enraged. Mr Markham went off to Grosvenor Square, and found his friend Rensley abed, and very sore.
Mr Markham broke out with a “What’s to do now, a’ God’s name?”