"A model of generosity!" Miss Arden applauded him. "I'm free for the next—if you'd care to have it instead."
"Thanks very much; but I'm not," Desmond answered serenely.
"The great little Banter-Wrangle—is it? You could plead a misunderstanding and bribe Mr Sinclair to save the situation!"
"Hard luck on Sinclair. But it's not Mrs Ranyard. I'm sorry——"
"Don't apologise. If you're satisfied, I am."
For all her careless tone, Roy had never seen her so nearly put out of countenance. Desmond said nothing; and for a moment—the briefest—there fell an awkward silence. Then with an air of marked graciousness she turned to Roy.
"We are generously permitted to go on, with a clear conscience!"
But for Roy the charm was broken. Her cavalier treatment of Lance annoyed him; and beneath the surface play of looks and words he had detected the flash of steel. It was some satisfaction that Lance had given as good as he received. But he felt troubled and curious. And he was likely to remain so. Lance, he very well knew, would say precisely nothing.
The girl, as if divining his thoughts, combated them with the delicately pointed weapons of her kind—and prevailed.
Again they wandered in the darkening garden and returned to find the Boston in full swing. Again Miss Arden's glance travelled casually round the room. And Roy saw her start; just enough to swear by....