She laughed without smiling, an uncanny habit of hers, and turned to the window.
"I hear Mr. Smith saying that he must go," she said.
Mrs. Windsor rustled forward to speed the parting guest.
That night Esmé said to Reggie in the smoking room—
"Reggie, Lady Locke will marry you if you ask her."
"I suppose so," the boy said.
"Shall you ask her?"
"I suppose so. Mr. Smith is going to do my anthem on Sunday."