“Thursday, at latest, if you can really put up with me for a little longer. I’ll try to get through to you to-morrow; I shall know better then.”
“Meanwhile I shall have Sybil to myself for a couple of days. On the whole, I think I’m glad you’re going, Edward!”
Kean laughed.
“Make her behave herself, and if that minx, Cynthia, arrives in the middle of the night, as she no doubt will, keep her out of Sybil’s room, will you? They haven’t met for at least a month and she’ll want to tell her the story of her life.”
“You must admit that it’s a good story,” murmured Lady Kean from the depths of the big chair.
“It will keep,” said her husband dryly, “till breakfast to-morrow morning. I must go now, if I’m to catch the five-forty.”
“What time do you get in?” asked his wife as he bent over her.
“Six-twenty to-morrow morning. A barbarous time.”
“Make them give you a good breakfast before you go on to Chambers.”
“You’ll be all right?” Fayre heard him murmur.