"Got what?"
"I mean when you disappeared," she added hastily, "then I knew."
"Knew what?"
Marjorie no longer had any doubts about John Dene's interest in Dorothy. He had swung round his chair, and was now seated directly facing her.
"You know she worried," continued Marjorie, "and she got pale and——" Again she paused.
John Dene continued to stare in a way that made her frightened to look up, although she watched him furtively through her lowered lashes.
"Is that what you came here to say?" demanded John Dene.
"I—I came to see Dorothy, and now I must run away," she cried, jumping up. "I've got an appointment. Good-bye, Mr. Dene. Thank you for asking me in;" and she held out her hand, which John Dene took as a man takes a circular thrust upon him.
A moment later Marjorie had fluttered out, closing the door behind her.
"Well, that's given him something to think about," she murmured, as she walked down the stairs. "Wessie must have me down to stay with her. He's sure to get a title;" and she made for the Tube, there to join the westward-rolling tide of patient humanity that cheerfully pays for a seat and hangs on a strap.