‘Oh, the station-man at Palestrina will find a carriage for me. There’s a very nice man who’s often driven us out.’
Sybert frowned slightly as he considered the question. It was rather inconvenient for him to go out to the villa that night; but he reflected that it was his duty toward Copley to get his niece back safely—as to letting her set out alone on a seven-mile drive with a strange Palestrina driver, that was clearly out of the question.
‘I think I’ll run out with you,’ he said, looking at his watch.
She had seen his frown and feared some such proposition. ‘No, indeed!’ she cried. ‘I shouldn’t think of letting you. I’ve been over the same road hundreds of times, and I’m not in the least afraid. It won’t be late.’
‘The Sabine mountains are infested with bandits,’ he declared. ‘I think you need an escort.’
‘Mr. Sybert, how silly! I know your time is precious, (this was intended for irony, but as it happened to be true, he did not recognize it as such), ‘and I don’t want you to come with me.’
Sybert laughed. ‘I don’t doubt that, Miss Marcia; but I’m coming, just the same. I am sorry, but you will have to put up with me.’
‘I should a lot rather you wouldn’t,’ she returned, ‘but do as you please.’
‘Thank you for the invitation,’ he smiled. ‘There’s about an hour and a half before the train goes—you might run out to the Embassy and have a cup of tea.’
‘Thank you for the invitation, but I think I’ll stay here. I don’t wish to miss a second train, and I shouldn’t know what to do with the dog.’