At another time she would have been glad to see him, but, with that dreadful sentence ringing in her ears, his touch seemed an abasement. She plucked her hand away.
"I thought you were in Cannes."
"Came back Tuesday. Had lunch?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Get in, then, and let me drive you home."
There was a dark green motor-coupé standing by the curb. Fenella took a seat in it automatically. She noticed he had no difficulty in recalling her address.
"I've been sitting in front watching you."
"I wish I'd done better. I made a fool of myself to-day."
"Oh, you were all right. Been over-working?"
She shook her head.