"Yes, Walter," she said, not looking up from her letter.
"Do you realise this is the first time we have been alone together this month?"
"No? Really?" She glanced up absently.
"Never mind that muddle-headed old Chelmer. I dare say she only wants another hundred or two." He came over, took the letter and her hand with it. "I have a great secret to tell you."
Now he had captured her attention as well as her hand. Her eyes sparkled. "A Cabinet Secret?" she said.
"Yes. At this moment every newspaper office is in a fever—to-morrow all England will be ringing with the news. It is a thunderbolt."
She started up, snatching her hand away, every nerve a-quiver with excitement. "And you kept this from me all through dinner?"
"I hadn't a chance, darling—I came straight from the scrimmage."
"You won't gloss it over by calling me novel names. I hate stale thunderbolts. You might have breathed a word in my ear."
"I shall make amends by beginning with the part that is only for your ear. Do you know what next Monday is?"