"Are you still keen on the shikar stunt, Lady Hickle?"
He gazed at her adoringly, and she smiled back into the honest, merry eyes.
"Shikar stunt?"
"Yes! you remember—Sunderbunds—dâk bungalows—shikari—wild animals in bunches—discomfort and all the rest. Say yes! Oh! do!" as Leonie slowly shook her head, "It'll be such a rag! Major and Mrs. Talbot—she's a fine shot—you and me, and we've got to get another fe—woman 'cos a simply top-hole fellow walked into the club last night, who's wonderfully keen on it; we're kind of related, his father was my mother's second cousin."
"And the higher the fewer," interposed Thorne, as Leonie laughed. "And what's the top-hole fellow's name?"
The youngster eyed the elder man with disapproval.
"Name—coming brain specialist—setting the old fossils in Harley Street by the ears—forgotten more than they've ever learned—name—why, Jan Cuxson. Won't you come, Lady Hickle?"
Leonie had suddenly bent to adjust her stirrup leather.
Her face was dead white, her eyes like stars, her mouth like a gate to heaven.
Almost a year and not a word, not a sign!