“I’m at least half an hour too early. I don’t deserve my hostess to be ready.”
Robert glanced at his watch. “You are very early,” he said, significantly, “but I will go and dress.”
His face was white with anger as he passed Mayne on the way to the door.
When it closed upon him, Mayne went up to the mantelpiece and stood opposite Cecily.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, gravely.
She tried to keep her voice steady, and smiled. “Nothing—nothing that matters. A silly little argument, that’s all.”
“Your husband is suspicious of our friendship?”
Cecily glanced at him appealingly, then suddenly dropped her head on her clasped hands.
“Oh, don’t, Dick! Don’t!” she whispered. “I can’t go through it all again.”
Mayne stood looking at her down-bent head. All at once he leaned over her.