“Whisper it close in my ear and I’ll try to hear. Your voice is so—what’s your expression—so infernally soft.”
He put his great arm round her.
“D’you hear?”
“I’m trying.”
“I’ll make you.”
Whether Lord Holme succeeded or not, Lady Holme had no opportunity—even if she desired it—of speaking to Rupert Carey for some time. He left London and went up to the North to stay with his mother. The only person he saw before he went was Robin Pierce. He came round to Half Moon Street early on the afternoon of the day after the Arkell House Ball. Robin was at home and Carey walked in with his usual decision. He was very pale, and his face looked very hard. Robin received him coldly and did not ask him to sit down. That was not necessary, of course. But Robin was standing by the door and did not move back into the room.
“I’m going North to-night,” said Carey.
“Are you?”
“Yes. If you don’t mind I’ll sit down.”
Robin said nothing. Carey threw himself into an armchair.