“Quite all right, thank you,” said the girl, coldly.
She moved away from him immediately, and as she sat down, Conway Westenhanger came up.
“Have a game at bridge, Miss Cressage? They’re making up a table and I’ve reserved a place for you.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather not play.”
Mrs. Caistor Scorton passed close to them and Eileen made a gesture to catch her attention.
“You found my cheque all right, Mrs. Scorton?”
Westenhanger, to his surprise, detected more than a tinge of irony in the question. Mrs. Caistor Scorton seemed taken aback for a moment; but she recovered herself almost at once:
“Oh, quite all right, quite all right,” she confirmed shortly, and passed on to the bridge-table.
Eileen Cressage knitted her brows slightly as she looked after her. At any rate, she had got out of that difficulty. Morchard had been quite right. The woman had obviously sent the cheque off to her bank and asked them to wire if it had been met. That apparently inevitable scandal had passed over safely. She glanced across at Morchard and an angrier flash came into her eyes. She knew what sort of a person he was, too.
Freddie Stickney drifted over and sat down between her and Westenhanger.