He took the hand she held to him. "But you knew I was coming? You had my letter?"
"Of course ... but——"
"And my word is my bond."
The cynical, whimsical inflection of John Armitage's voice, and the perfectly easy and friendly terms Sophie and he were on, surprised people who were near them.
Michael was incensed by it; but Potch, standing beside Sophie, regarded Armitage with grave, quiet eyes.
"Good evening, Michael! Evening, Potch!" Armitage said.
Michael did not reply; but Potch said:
"Evening, Mr. Armitage!" And Sophie covered the trail of his words, and Michael's silence, with questions as to the sort of journey Armitage had made; a flying commentary on the ball, the races, and the weather. Michael moved away as the next dance was beginning.
"Is this my dance, Sophie?" Armitage inquired.
Sophie shook her head, smiling.