“Vivienne,” said Stargarde, “Stanton wishes to go; are you ready?”
“Yes,” said she, rising and going for her wraps.
“Don’t drive home,” said Camperdown a few minutes later, when they stood looking at the heaped-up rugs in the sleigh standing before the door. “There’s no room for me, anyway. Let’s walk. It’s a fine night. Look at the stars and the moon,” and he pointed up to the blue vault of the sky.
“Are we not going to be rid of you yet, Brian?” said Stargarde, with a comical face.
“A medical man does not desert his patients. I’ve two to see home. Stanton, I forbid your driving. A walk will make you sleep better. Take Miss Delavigne on ahead of us. If you go too fast I’ll say that you are trying to outwit me. Now one, two, three, and away. Send your man home.”
“Not till I find out whether these ladies prefer to walk,” said Mr. Armour.
“Of course they do. I asked them.”
“Oh, well, if it is arranged”—and turning to the sleigh he said to the coachman, “We shall walk; do not wait for us.”
Vivienne glanced at Armour’s face as they went under the gateway. She wished to know if he was annoyed at Dr. Camperdown’s persistence in giving them the long walk out to Pinewood, and so coolly foisting her upon him as a companion, when he would so much rather have had Stargarde.
He did not seem annoyed. There was even, she fancied, a look of cold, placid satisfaction on his face as he walked along soberly by her side, his hands in the pockets of his coat, his head bent slightly forward. However, he did not speak to her, and seemed to be in one of his usual reveries, or listening to the conversation of Stargarde and Camperdown, who were close behind them.