“Yes!”
“Oh, but Miss Van Tuyn performed that miracle!” said Craven, recovering himself.
“I don’t think so. You are too modest. But now, mind, I expect you to come down to Coombe to lunch on the first fine Sunday, and to bring Adela with you. Good night! Bobbie, where are you?”
And she followed Lady Wrackley and the young man with the turned-up nose to a big and shining motor which had just glided noiselessly up.
“Damn the women!” muttered Craven, as he pushed through the crowd into the ugly freedom of Shaftesbury Avenue.
CHAPTER III
Miss Van Tuyn and the members of the “old guard” went home to bed that night realizing that Lady Sellingworth had had “things” done to herself before she came out to the theatre party.
“She’s beginning again after—how many years is it?” said Lady Wrackley to Mrs. Ackroyde in the motor as they drove away from Shaftesbury.
“Ten,” said Mrs. Ackroyde, who was blessed with a sometimes painfully retentive memory.