The next afternoon as Patricia walked down the steps of Number 426 Eaton Square and turned to the left, she was conscious that in spite of the summer sunshine the world was very grey about her. She had not gone a hundred yards before Lady Tanagra's grey car slid up beside her.
"Will you take pity on me, Patricia? I'm at a loose end," cried Lady Tanagra.
Patricia turned with a little cry of pleasure.
"Jump in," cried Lady Tanagra. "It's no good refusing a Bowen. Our epidermises are too thick, or should it be epidermi?"
Patricia shook her head and laughed as she seated herself beside Lady Tanagra.
The car crooned its way up Sloane Street and across into Knightsbridge, Lady Tanagra intent upon her driving.
"Is it indiscreet to ask where you are taking me?" enquired Patricia with elaborate humility.
Lady Tanagra laughed as she jammed on the brake to avoid running into the stern of a motor-omnibus.
"I feel like a pirate to-day. I want to run away with someone, or do something desperate. Have you ever felt like that?"
"A politician's secretary must not encourage such unrespectable instincts," she replied.