“That was mere chance.”
She slipped her arm through his in the old way.
“Dear Christopher, I love Nevil, and he’s awfully good, but you are like my own brother. Please pretend you are really. If I had a brother, he would see Geoffry for me.”
“But Nevil might not like it.”
It was a difficult pass, for how could he explain to her it was of Geoffry he was thinking, not of Nevil. His evasion at least raised a little smile.
“Nevil! An explanation taken off his hands!” She spread her own abroad in mock amazement.
“Tell him yourself, Patricia.”
“Christopher!”
He looked straight ahead, a certain rigidness in the outline of his face betokening a decision at variance with his will.
“What am I to tell him?”