“Ah.”
She strolled out of the room, hesitated, then turned in the doorway with a charming smile.
“The Countess will return from her gallop at five.”
She waited as though expecting an answer, but I only bowed.
“Would you take a message to Mistaire Kelly Eyre for me?” she asked, sweetly.
I said that I would.
“Then please say that: ‘On Sunday the book-stores are closed in Paris.’”
“Is that what I am to say?”
“Exactly that.”