"Ferlie, don't be foolish! Since when have I needed dry-nursing? Make her get in, Cyprian. There, darling! There. Shut the door. That's right, Cyprian. Write to me, both of you. What is she shaking about? I won't let Clifford eat me in any case. Good-bye. Look after her, Cyprian. Good-bye! Good-bye!"
They were whirled out of her sight.
* * * * * *
Whereupon, the temptation of Eve descended upon Aunt B.
She had never met this husband of Ferlie's and, on reconsidering that fact, it seemed that Ferlie herself had always intervened in the past to prevent a meeting. There was really no need for her to hurry home to-night; she might even serve the fugitives best by staying to produce some plausible reason for Ferlie's sudden "journey to town."
Jardine, to her amazement, was respectfully inhospitable in his opposition to this proposed change of plan. He made it unmistakably clear that he wished to be rid of her. And the more insistently he conveyed that impression, the more obstinately did Miss Trefusis desire to see the owner of Black Towers.
To settle the matter out of hand she went to her room, unpacked a dinner dress of silver-grey velvet, and came downstairs wearing it and an assured air which discouraged argument.
Said Jardine to her in the hall where he was hovering like a distressed bat among the chain-mailed ancestors.
"It is to be expected that his lordship will dine in his own apartments, Madam. I have not put off the dinner hour to suit his late arrival."
Therefore, at 8.15 precisely, Aunt B. found herself frustrated thus far, at the end of the long table.