Bridget shrugged.
'Thank you. But I always thought men of action weren't great readers. How did you do your reading?'
'Some day—if you care to hear—I'll tell you.'
She looked at him interestedly. 'Yes, I should care to hear.'
'Not now,' put in Mrs Gildea. 'You've come this morning to tell us about the Gas-Bore at Alexandra City, and, as it's got to go into my next letter, I shall take some notes. Do look for a comfortable chair, Colin, and you may smoke if you want to.'
'This is good enough,' and he settled himself after his own fashion at Lady Bridget's feet with his back against the veranda post and his long legs sprawling over the steps.
Lady Bridget leaned out of the depths of her deep canvas chair and offered him her cigarette case.
He eyed it in amused criticism—the dull gold of the case, and the initials in diamonds, sapphires and rubies set diagonally across it.
'YOUR writing?'
Again the faint pink rose in her paleness.