The temptation to explain that he had never seen the girl before that day was strong, but he waived it, and contented himself with saying:
“I—er—can’t exactly say—force of habit, I imagine.”
“Is she a friend of yours?”
“No.”
Cynthia subsided into the tonneau.
“Of all the odd things!” she murmured, little dreaming that her chance question had sent a thrill of sheer delight through Medenham’s every vein.
“What is it now?” inquired Mrs. Devar vindictively, for she detested these half confidences.
“Oh, nothing of any importance. Fitzroy footed the bill, it seems.”
“Very probably. He must have bribed the girl to be impudent.”