“Thanks, no; he bites.”
“I suppose you got smashed up. I hope you weren’t hurt.”
“Not in the least, thank you.”
This was unpromising. Meryon despaired of introducing his subject tactfully; he was not, therefore, discouraged, but plunged straight into it.
“I’ve just been seeing Lal Laurenson,” he said. “I beg your pardon, I hope you won’t think it awful cheek of me to shove my oar in, but I can’t help it. I’ve been friends with Laurenson ever since we were at Eton together. He’s been so awfully good to me, I can’t help speaking now. You cut him in Swanborough this afternoon.”
“I did.”
“What for?”
“I am not going to tell you. I mean,” said Dolly, “I don’t want to be rude, but I can’t explain my reason. I had one.”
“Was it because you saw him in at the Sailors’ Arms?”
Dolly hesitated for a minute; then she answered: “Yes.”