"If that's her name. I mean, there was no row?"
"Not the least in the world."
The Captain tugged at his moustache. "H'm! Not like you. Ever leave anywhere without a row before, Mops?"
Louie laughed a little. "Now you mention it, I don't think I ever did," she admitted. "But there wasn't a word said. She knew, and I knew she knew. So I cleared out. That was all. She made me some beef-tea before I left."
Again they walked in silence.
The daintiest of hoar-frosts lay over the Park; on Putney Heath they had passed skaters. The keen wind had reddened the Captain's nose, and Louie could not help smiling as he took out his handkerchief for the twentieth time. She had remembered Mr. Mackie.
"Ought to have a silk one a day like this," Chaff grunted, blowing hard. "Makes you perfectly raw.... I say, dear old Mops——"
"What, old boy?"
"Anything I could have done, you know——"
She squeezed his arm again. "I shall be giving you plenty to do presently. And you say he's not a bad sort."