"I have no doubt," Lanyard agreed with entire tranquillity, "there is such a rumour . . . And now that I have duly functioned in my paternal rôle, my dear young woman"—he rose—"now I have told you all I know—"
"Anybody that believes that—!"
"I fancy you will be relieved if I bid you good night."
"I think you're perfectly damn' horrid," said Folly McFee, rising and extending her hand. "First you spoil my evening, then you run away."
"You will forgive me one spoiled evening, I know, if anything I may have said preserves to you the beauty of your tomorrows."
"I won't forgive you for running away from me," the young woman promised darkly, holding fast to his hand and unleashing 80 c.-p. eyes to do their devastating work. "You can be rather a dear when you choose; but I don't think it's a bit fair of you to rob me of four friends and not replace them with one."
"But I trust very truly—" Lanyard began.
A peremptory buzz of the doorbell interrupted.