"Is there a Mrs Bassett here—Daphne Bassett?"
"No. But——"
"Has she been, and is she likely to come?"
"She hasn't been, and nobody'll come now. But George——"
"I'll see you presently; just let me get rid of my message," I said; and I returned to Rose.
A glance at my face was enough for him. He may have muttered a "Thank-you," but I didn't hear it; he had spun on his heel and in a moment was half-way to the cloakroom. I hope he got his own hat, for he was out again almost instantly. I had a glimpse of his magnificent back as he hurried along the passage, then a flying heel at the turn of the stairs and he was gone. Turning, I saw that Madge had watched his departure with me. She almost ran to me.
"Quickly, George—who, who is your Beautiful Bear, and why have you been keeping a superb creature like that from me?" she demanded. "I knew he was waiting for a woman. Every skirt that came in——" at the swing of her head the feathers tossed like an inky weeping-elm in a gale. "But," she added, "I confess I never saw a man admire himself quite so openly before."
My friend has scored off me often enough in the past. This time I scored off her.
"Derwent Rose always was good-looking," I remarked.
She fell a step back.