My darling had a temper of her own. "I didn't know I'd lost it," she said, with a little perverse snap.
Then she dropped into her sulks again.
"These lovers' quarrels!" Miss Angela's private smile to me seemed to say; but this time I evaded the discreet invitation to participate.
"Well," Archie said presently, looking at his watch, "I must be off; I've a chap to meet. Thanks, Aunt Angela (beg pardon; I know you don't like being called that). I'll come on Thursday, then."
But Miss Angela exclaimed: "A man to meet! At this hour!"
Archie took his hat from a chair. "Yes. About a dog. Why not? Fox terrier," he added facetiously; "must make sure they've got over the distemper, you know. Thursday then. You two are staying a bit, I suppose?" he invited us.
He made his adieux; but almost before the door had closed behind him Evie had risen from her hassock.
"You'll excuse me, won't you?" she said quickly. "I've got a headache. I shall go straight to bed. Good-night."
And she followed him out—whether straight to bed or not I don't know. Kitty and I followed shortly afterwards.
And now that I've got to this Woburn Place portion of my story I may as well, while I am about it, skip the two intervening days and come to the evening of Archie Merridew's birthday.