"But isn't there that breakfast at the club on Sunday?" Cherry asked.
"Porter's breakfast--yes. But I'm not going to that," Peter said, stupidly.
"Couldn't you say that you were?" she supplied, simply.
"Yes, by George!" he agreed, brightening. "That fixes me! But now how about you?"
"Why, I am at the Olivers'!" she reminded him. "All I have to do is walk out of the house at ten!"
Their eyes met in a wild rush of triumph and hope.
"This time we shall do it!" Peter said. "Your suitcase I'll have. You have money?"
"Oh, plenty!"
"Martin thinks you go with him Monday, eh?"
"I hardly know what he thinks!" she answered, with a fluttered air. "I've hardly known what I was doing or saying! He was to go to-morrow, you know. But I told him that I wanted to get the whole house in perfect order, in case Alix should ever find a tenant. We've worked like beavers there!"