"Who is it?" she cried, startled by his evident agitation.
"Strongley," he whispered. "Heard his voice in the hall. Absolutely unexpected."
He closed the door, and she found herself in his bedroom, just as the landlady ushered in the second visitor.
And if she had been surprised on her first entrance to John Morrison's rooms, it was evident that the Honourable Herbert was even more so.
"Good Lord, man," he spluttered. "Why the glad rags? I—er—of course, it's no business of mine, but your general appearance gave me a bit of a shock."
To the girl listening intensely on the other side of the door it seemed as if a note of relief had crept into her fiancé's voice—relief in which a certain amount of uneasiness was mingled.
"What can I do for you?" John Morrison asked, gravely.
"Well—er—don't you know"—undoubtedly the visitor was not at all sure of his ground—"your rooms and that sort of thing have rather knocked me. I mean—er—I'm rather in the soup, Morrison: and I really came round to ask your advice, don't you know. I mean you saw the whole thing—yesterday: and though I'm afraid I lost my temper with you too, yet even at that time I saw you were different. And—er—I thought..."
The Honourable Herbert mopped his forehead and sank into a chair.
"The mere fact that I change for dinner doesn't seem to alter the situation appreciably," said Morrison, quietly.