“We met him at the dinner last night for the first time. Jim and Maurice knew him before, of course. He seemed a very fascinating sort of man.”
“Where is Miss Pendennis, by the way?” pursued the insatiable little questioner. “I was just going to ask for her when Mr. Wynn turned up with his news.”
“Didn’t I tell you? She left for Berlin this morning; her father’s ill. She had to rush to get away.”
“To rush! I should think so,” exclaimed Mrs. Vereker. “Why, she was at Mrs. Dennis Sutherland’s last night; though I only caught a glimpse of her. She left so early; I suppose that was why—”
I stumbled to my feet, feeling sick and dizzy, and upset the little table with my glass that Jim had placed at my elbow.
“Sorry, Mary, I’m always a clumsy beggar,” I said, forcing a laugh. “I’ll ask you to excuse me. I must get back to the office. I’ve to see Lord Southbourne when he returns. He’s been out motoring all day.”
“Oh, but you’ll come back here and sleep,” Mary protested. “You can’t go back to that horrible flat—”
“Nonsense!” I said almost roughly. “There’s nothing wrong with the flat. Do you suppose I’m a child or a woman?”
She ignored my rudeness.
“You look very bad, Maurice,” she responded, almost in a whisper, as we moved towards the house. I was acutely conscious that the others were watching my retreat; especially that inquisitive little Vereker woman, whom I was beginning to hate. When we entered the dusk of the drawing-room, out of range of those curious eyes, I turned on my cousin.