“Or shall we dress and go in a taxi?” he said.
“No, no. But I haven’t said I can come.”
His face fell.
“I will come,” she said. “And we will walk. But what would Mr. Braybrooke say?”
“Have you seen him? Has he told you?”
“What?”
“About our conversation in the club?”
“I have seen him, and I don’t think he is quite pleased about Shaftesbury Avenue. But never mind. I cannot live to please Mr. Braybrooke. Au revoir. Just before eight.”
When he had gone Lady Sellingworth again looked in the glass.
“But it’s impossible!” she said to herself. “It’s impossible!”