She began: “The Leroy Mortimers?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Lord Alderdene and Captain Voucher, and the Page twins and Marion?”
“Yes.”
“Rena Bonnesdel, the Tassel girl, Agatha Caithness, Mrs. Vendenning—all sorts, all sets.” And, with an effort: “If I'm to drive, I should like—to—to know what time it is?”
He informed her; and she, too indolent to pretend surprise, and finding reproach easier, told him that he had no business to permit her to forget.
His smiling serenity under the rebuke aroused in her a slight resentment as though he had taken something for granted.
Besides, she had grown uneasy; she had wired Quarrier, saying she would meet him and drive him over. He had replied at once, naming his train. He was an exact man and expected method and precision in others. She didn't exactly know how it might affect him if his reasonable demand was unsatisfied. She did not know him very well yet, only well enough to be aware that he was a gentleman so precisely, so judiciously constructed, that, contemplating his equitable perfections, her awe and admiration grew as one on whom dawns the exquisite adjustments of an almost human machine.
And, thinking of him now, she again made up her mind to give him the answer which he now had every reason to expect from her. This decision appeared to lubricate her conscience; it ran more smoothly now, emitting fewer creaks.
“You say that you know Mr. Quarrier?” she began thoughtfully.