“No? Why not?” he asked laconically.
“I wanted—I thought it would be nice to have a few days just to ourselves,” she replied uncertainly.
“That’s not the only reason.”
Ann hesitated.
“No,” she acknowledged at last. “It isn’t. Perhaps I’m ‘fey’ to-night. I don’t feel quite material Ann yet”—with a faint smile. “And—somehow—I’d rather no one knew for a little while.”
CHAPTER XXII WILD OATS
Lady Susan came briskly into the morning-room at White Windows, and the four privileged members of the Tribes of Israel who, being allowed the run of the house, were basking in front of a cheery fire, rose in a body and rushed towards her, jealously clamouring for attention. She patted them all round with a beautiful impartiality, cuffed the Great Dane for trampling on a minute Pekingese, settled a dispute between the truculent Irish terrier and an aristocratic Chow, and proceeded to greet her nephew.
“I’ve got an errand for you this morning, Brett,” she remarked, as she poured out coffee.