"I think I shall go over to Ausone," remarked Warner.
Philippa looked up in silence.
"Why?" inquired Peggy.
"Because," he replied, "I have a couple of dozen pictures and sketches in storage at the Boule d'Argent, and I think I might as well get them and ship them to my Paris studio."
"Do you really suppose there is any danger that——"
"No," he interrupted, smilingly, "but you know how finicky and panicky a painter is. I think I'll take a stroll after luncheon and bring back my canvases—" he turned to Philippa—"if I may take your punt for the purpose?"
"Certainly. I'll pole you up to Ausone——"
"You will do nothing of the sort, thank you!" he retorted, laughing.
"Is there any danger?" asked Peggy.
"Not the slightest. But I had rather that Philippa remained here."