"Well, of course, that is no use. It will make her happier, poor little soul, but it won't change her decision. Letters never do. You've simply got to see her, Dicky! Bill, run away for a minute, there's a dear. Go and think about a cantilever, or something, over there."
Mr. Carmyle, puffing smoke, obediently withdrew to the other side of a clump of sooty rhododendrons. Connie turned eagerly to Dicky. Her face was flushed and eager, like a child's.
"Dicky," she whispered earnestly, "see her! See her! See her alone! Take her in your arms and tell her that you will never, never, never let her go! She will struggle and try to break away; but hold on. Hold on tight! Go on telling her that you love her and will never leave her. When she sees that you mean it, she will give in. I know. I'm a woman, and I know!" Connie squeezed Dicky's arm violently. "I know!" she repeated.... "You can come back now, Bill dear."
"Nice goings-on, I don't think," observed Mr. Carmyle severely, reappearing round the rhododendron. "Shouting all over the garden--what?"
But the two conspirators, still in the clouds together, took no notice of him. Instead, Connie rose to her feet and began to walk towards the nearest gate. The two men followed.
"Connie, how am I going to do it?" asked Dicky deferentially.
"I have a plan," replied Connie, with portentous solemnity. She was launched on an enterprise after her own heart. "Listen! Have you a portmanteau?"
"Yes, at my rooms."
"Well, go there and pack it."
"Why?" asked Dicky in a dazed voice.