“Oh I don’t know; nothing in particular.”
“I only ask,” said Inez airily, “because I want to know what one does talk about when one picks up a young man and takes him out to Richmond. You might be more helpful; anyhow, what do you do?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” exclaimed Ryland. “You can’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because you . . . oh, it’s this silly sex equality stuff you’ve got in your head, I suppose. Let me tell you, it doesn’t work—not where that sort of thing’s concerned anyhow.”
“I suppose you hold each other’s hands,” went on Inez inexorably. “Do you kiss? Rather familiar with a complete stranger, isn’t it?”
“Shut up, will you? I don’t like to hear you talking like that.”
“All right, all right. Go ahead with your love’s young dream.”
Ryland frowned at her, but Inez’ face bore an expression of such innocent appeal, that he burst into a laugh.
“Curse you, Inez; you’re pulling my leg. Well, as a matter of fact we didn’t get much forwarder really that evening—self-possessed young person she was. I tried to fix up something for next day but she said she was going away. The best I could get out of her was that she would take me for another drive on the following Thursday. She said she’d pick me up in St. James’s Park—at the end of the Birdcage Walk—as soon after five as possible. It sounded rather surreptitious and jolly and of course I agreed. I got there at a quarter to five and waited till nearly seven, but she never came. I haven’t seen her since—as a matter of fact, I’ve hardly thought about her.”