“Where’s Geoffrey?” Polly’s voice was high.
“Don’t know, I’m sure.”
“That’s his car.”
“Is it?”
“You’ve been out with him. Don’t deny it.”
Gita drew her hood over her face. “Why should I deny what you’ve no right to ask?”
“No right!”
“Certainly not. Sorry you caught me. Thought you’d telephoned to two of your heavies and were going to supper.”
“Did. But Bob Hillier passed out—how’d you know I telephoned?”
But Gita would not mention Geoffrey’s name. She turned and walked swiftly up the avenue.