“Thanks to Mr. Coventry. If he hadn’t chanced to be taking a constitutional in the direction of Berrier Cove that morning, I don’t know what would have happened.”
Ann was not looking at her. Instead, her gaze was directed towards the open window as though the view which offered were of surpassing interest.
“I wondered how it was he came to be on the spot just in the nick of time,” she said negligently.
“That was how,” nodded Cara. “He’d been for a walk along the shore, and luckily came home by way of the Cove.”
“I suppose I shall have to thank him,” remarked Ann gloomily.
Cara looked a trifle mystified. Then she smiled.
“It would be—just polite,” she submitted.
Ann frowned.
“I always seem to be thanking him!” she complained, and, in response to the other’s glance of inquiry, recounted the various occasions on which Coventry had rendered her a service.
“Not a bad record of knight-errantry for a confirmed woman-hater, is it?” she added with a rueful touch of humour.