"Please don't move," the man answered. "I asked. They're all out still. But perhaps I'd better introduce myself. I'm Bryan Lumsden. I think I'm expected."
"Sir Bryan Lumsden," she repeated. "Oh! we thought you'd come this morning. Leslie waited luncheon."
"I burst a tire at Welshpool," Bryan explained. "Often do in snow, you know."
"Shall I ring for tea?"
"Yes, please. And meantime, let's talk." He took off his coat and flung it over a high-railed chair. "Shall we?"
She sat back, further into the shadow as she hoped, but the vicious flame chose that moment to spurt out—a spurt of peculiar brilliance.
"Now, what can we talk about?" he asked pleasantly, when the footman had gone, carrying the great coat with him.
"The weather?" poor Fenella suggested, with a hollow laugh.
"Or foreign travel, eh? That's even more interesting."
Nelly abandoned her treacherous ambush.