"Do you complain about that? You no longer doubt my devotion, my gratitude?"
"Do not believe me capable of such stupidity!"
"That is very well, then. Now I must run." Liane Delorme threw away her cigarette and rose. "I have a thousand things to do.... And, you understand, we leave as soon as you are dressed?"
"Perfectly. By what train?"
"By no train. Don't you know there is a strike to-day? What have you been reading in those newspapers? It is necessary that we motor to Cherbourg."
"That is no little journey, dear sister."
"Three hundred and seventy kilometres?" Liane Delorme held this equivalent of two-hundred and thirty English miles in supreme contempt. "We shall make it in eight hours. We leave at four at latest, possibly earlier; at midnight we are in Cherbourg. You shall see."
"If I survive..."
"Have no fear. My chauffeur drives superbly."
She was at the door when Lanyard stayed her with "One moment, Liane!" With fingers resting lightly on the knob she turned.