“Mr. Pitt, what do you think of Lord Dreever?”
Jimmy started. No question could have chimed in more aptly with his thoughts. Even as she spoke he was struggling to keep himself from asking her the same thing.
“Oh, I know I ought not to ask,” she went on. “He’s your host and you’re his friend, I know. But——”
Her voice trailed off. The muscles of Jimmy’s back tightened and quivered, but he could find no words.
“I wouldn’t ask any one else. But you’re—different somehow. I don’t know what I mean—we hardly know each other—but——”
She stopped again, and still he was dumb.
“I feel so alone,” she said very quietly, almost to herself. Something seemed to break in Jimmy’s head. His brain suddenly cleared. He took a step forward.
A huge shadow blackened the white grass. Jimmy wheeled round. It was McEachern.
“I have been looking for you, Molly, my dear. I thought you must have gone to bed.”
He turned to Jimmy and addressed him for the first time since their meeting in the bedroom.