"Splendid," said Vane quietly. "The other member of the firm is now in love with you as well. . . ."
She looked at Vane in silence, and suddenly she shivered slightly. "I think," she said, "that we had better talk about rather less dangerous topics. . . ." She glanced round her, and then went to the window and stood looking out into the bright sunlight. "What topping rooms you've got," she said after a moment.
"They aren't bad, are they?" remarked Vane briefly. "What do you say to some tea? My devoted landlady is preparing a repast which millionaires would squander their fortunes for. Her sister happens to live in Devonshire. . . ."
"So you were expecting me?" she cried, turning round and facing him.
"I was," answered Vane.
She laughed shortly. "Well—what do you think of dyspepsia and Vichy?"
"I've been trying not to think of him ever since lunch," he answered grimly. She came slowly towards him, and suddenly Vane caught both her hands. "Joan, Joan," he cried, and his voice was a little hoarse, "my dear, you can't. . . . You just can't. . . ."
"What great brain was it who said something really crushing about that word 'Can't?'" she said lightly.
"Then you just mustn't." His grip almost hurt her, but she made no effort to take away her hands.
"The trouble, my very dear friend, seems to me to be that—I just must." Gently she disengaged her hands, and at that moment Mrs. Green arrived with the tea.