“Did you think they had got you, Tommy?”
She could only cling to his free arm for a moment speechless. Then she lifted her face, her voice shaking, still in fear.
“We must hurry, Bob. They've sent for Papa.”
“Have they?” said Bob, with interest. “Well, not a regiment of papas should stop you now, old girl. Got everything?”
Cecilia gathered up her things, nodding.
“Then we'll leave this young lady here,” said Bob. He placed Avice carefully on Cecilia's bed, and made for the door, having the pleasure, as he shot the bolt, of hearing precisely what the younger Miss Rainham thought of him and all his attributes, including his personal appearance.
“A nice gift of language, hasn't she?” he said. “Inherits it from her mamma, I should think.” He put his arm round Cecilia and held her closely as they went downstairs, his face full of the joy of battle. Wilfred was nowhere to be seen, but by the door Eliza waited. Bob slipped something into her hand.
“I expect you'll lose your place over this, Eliza,” he said. “Well, you'll get a better—I'll tell my lawyer to see to that. He'll write to you—by the way, what's your surname? Oh, Smithers—I'll remember. And thank you very much.”
They shook hands with her, and passed out into the street. Cecilia was still too shaken to speak—but as Bob pulled her hand through his arm and hurried her along, her self-control returned, and the face that looked up at his presently was absolutely content. Bob returned the look with a little smile.
“Didn't you know I'd come?” he asked. “You dear old stupid.”