“The Archduchess carries them.”
“Now, that’s very interesting. If you don’t mind I’ll walk up to the house with you.” Upon the way he praised the beauties of nature and the quality of the morning air.
As they came to the door of Boldrewood a big car passed them with the Archduchess driving alone. Lomas put up his eyeglass. “She’s not overcome with grief, what?”
“Not quite.”
“Might be bravado, don’t you know.”
“I don’t know.”
“It takes some of them that way,” Lomas said pensively. He turned on the steps of the house and looked after the car as it wound in and out among the beeches. “Striking woman. Yes. I’ll come up to your room, if you don’t mind.”
“I thought you wanted to say something,” Reggie said.
Lomas did not answer till they were upstairs. “Well, no. Not to say anything,” he resumed, and lit a cigarette. “I want another opinion, as you fellows say. Sir Lawson Hunter has made up his mind.”
“Oh, he always does that.”