“'Oh's the sort of expression one used at the time,” said Chevenix. “There wasn't much else to be said. It was a holy row.” He mused, he brooded, and said no more. Luckily for him, he discovered Dover at hand, and escaped. Mrs. Germain was put into a first-class carriage by two attendant squires, provided with tea and a foot-warmer; and then Chevenix bowed himself away and Senhouse disappeared. She had a novel on her knees, but read little. She looked out of window, frowning and biting her red lip. When she reached Victoria she tightened both lips, and you saw that, so compressed, they made a thin red line straight above a square chin. Her charm and favour both lay, you then discovered, in expression.
Senhouse, hatless and loose-limbed, stood at the door to help her out. She accepted his services, and was put into a cab.
“Where's he to take you?” he asked her pleasantly.
She said at once, “To Brown's Hotel.” Then, before she got in, with a hand, unperceived by the general, just touching his arm, “Jack, I want to speak to you, but not to-night. Will you come in the morning, please? I am rather tired, and shall dine early and go to bed. Is my maid here?” She looked about. “Oh, I suppose she's seeing to the luggage. You might find her, and tell her where to come to.”
Senhouse smiled and nodded. “Certainly. All these things shall be done. Anything else before you go off?”
She hesitated for a minute, then said, “Yes, there is one more thing. You mustn't come to Brown's like that. You must put on ordinary things.”
He raised his eyebrows, then laughed—throwing his head up. “Wonderful lady! Wherewithal shall I be clothed? Do you really think these things matter?”
She was firm. “I really do. I hope you will be kind enough to—to—please me.”
He looked very kindly at her. “My dear,” he said, “of course I shall. Be quite easy about it.” He held out his hand. “Good night, Mary.”
She took it, but didn't meet his look. “Good night,” she said, and drove away without another signal.