“Je ne demande que ça!” She swept him a curtesy, and then turned to Lady Pomfret. Her voice softened delightfully:
“You have been sweet to me. Thank you for your gracious hospitality. I hate kissing, but may I kiss you?”
She bent down and kissed the softly tinted cheek. Lady Pomfret answered tremulously:
“Perhaps another visit, at a happier time, will make you forget what has passed.”
Margot held out her hand to Sir Geoffrey.
“Good-bye, Sir Geoffrey. You have a charming son. If you will give him my love, I don’t think he will misunderstand me.”
Sir Geoffrey stood erect, very impassive.
“I will see you to your car.”
“As a favour to me—don’t! I disturbed you just now. Let me pop off quietly. Au revoir!”
Half protesting, he consented, opening the door for her to pass out. She blew another kiss to Lady Pomfret, just before she vanished. The Squire came back to his wife, who was reflecting that her visitor had a knack at exits and entrances.