Mr. Mainwaring coughed submissively, and rose.
"Mr. Rylands, will you come and smoke a cigarette with me?" he said.
"Second Chronicles?" remarked Connie's clear voice. "I shall look it up during the sermon to-morrow." The Archdeacon's emissary had unburdened his soul at last.
Lady Adela extended a stately hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Rylands," she said. "My husband insists on carrying you off to the smoking-room."
Mr. Rylands, by this time hopelessly enmeshed in Connie Carmyle's net, sprang guiltily to his feet.
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed. "Good-bye! Good-bye, Mrs. Carmyle!"
He shook hands, gathered together his impedimenta, and hurried blindly up the staircase.
"Remember I am coming to hear you preach to-morrow," Connie called after him, with a dazzling smile. "Morning or evening?"
The godly but mesmerised youth halted, and broke out afresh. "I am preaching at Evensong," he began, "but--"
"This way, Mr. Rylands," said Lady Adela patiently, indicating her husband, who was standing by a swing door at the opposite side of the hall.