He laughed.
“Well, I have only just escaped a catastrophe to-day.”
She looked alarmed.
“How?”
“I offended Bateson, and he gave notice!” Connie’s “Oh!” was a sound of consternation. Bateson, the ex-scout had become a most efficient and comfortable valet, and Otto depended greatly upon him.
“It’s all right,” said Falloden quickly. “I grovelled. I ate all the humble-pie I could think of. It was of course impossible to let him go. Otto can’t do without him. I seem somehow to have offended his dignity.”
“They have so much!” said Connie, laughing, but rather unsteadily.
“One lives and learns.” The tone of the words was serious—a little anxious. Then the speaker took up his hat. “But I’m not good at managing touchy people. Good night.”
Her hand passed into his. The little fingers were cold; he could not help enclosing them in a warm, clinging grasp. The firelit room, the dark street outside, and the footsteps of the passers-by—they all melted from consciousness. They only saw and heard each other.
In another minute the outer door had closed behind them. Connie was left still in the same attitude, one hand on the chair, her head drooping, her heart in a dream.