A slight shade of surprise flitted across her features, as it had done across Doris’ face, and Audrey’s.
“Have you brought me my gloves?”
“Did bring them—rather wanted Miss Norah to have them—seems she takes a decent size—none of your little dollie flippers; so as they’ll fit you, you may as well have them. Here you are. Now we’re straight.”
He thrust the parcel into her hands; she taking it with the expression of surprise growing on her countenance.
“And have you got the stall you promised me?”
He inserted his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, and began to shake himself in the manner which recalled a dog which has just come out of the water. Only he did it in such a very jerky way that one almost expected to hear his joints all cracking.
“Got a stall—had dreadful bother to get one—seems as if everyone wants to go to the place at the same time. If you don’t mind—and it don’t make any difference to you—’pon my word don’t see why it should—had rather Miss Norah went with me.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I say that unless it upsets you in any way—and I don’t see how it can—sure to find a chap who’ll be only too glad to place a stall at your disposal—lots of chaps about—I’d rather Miss Norah went with me—much rather—really; in fact I’ve asked her.”
She looked at him in a way which I should have thought would have made even such a hardened sinner, as he seemed to be, wince. But he failed to turn a hair.