"You said you didn't want me," murmured Lettice reproachfully.
"I didn't want you when things were all beastly. But I do want you to meet Harry. I want your opinion of him."
To this Lettice made no reply. She set a few slow, neat stitches in the cloth she was embroidering.
"Whereabouts is it, this place in the Ardennes?"
"Near Bouillon. You can get there for next to nothing, if that's what you're thinkin' of, but I wish you'd let me take you. I did rather well over that deal this morning and I'm rollin'. After all, you're as good as my sister. You might just as well."
Lettice did not thank him; that was taken for granted. They understood each other so well that words were often superfluous.
"If it's not very expensive I might manage it myself," she said. "My old man in Harley Street says I've got to take a holiday, so I suppose I must go somewhere, just to satisfy him. And I should rather like to see the Ardennes."
"Have you been to the doctor again? Why didn't you tell me before, Lettice? What does he say?"
"He says," said Lettice with inimitable unction, "that I am in a state of thorough nervous exhaustion, and ought to take six months' rest. So."
"Then I hope you're going to do it!"