At Crawley a tyre burst, and it took nearly an hour to wake up a garage and procure a new outer cover. It was after 10.30 when they drew up before the Cosmopolis, with all its naughty lights winking at the sea.
Eve laughed as they stood in the foyer, and the porter brought in her beautiful new suit case.
“Don’t,” said Quiltan.
For the first time she seemed aware of his presence, and turned with kindlier light in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m not playing the game, am I? But it does seem funny. I suppose we have supper now. Will you wait, and I’ll run up and put on a pretty frock for you?”
He would have stopped her, but she was gone with the words.
Rather nervously he entered the great dining-hall and ordered a table for two. There were many guests present, and his eyes travelled quickly from table to table. Wynne was nowhere to be seen, and with this a sudden intolerable excitement seized him. It was short-lived, however, for his next glance lighted on the fluffy head of little Miss Esme, her eyes demurely lowered over a dessert plate. Facing her, with his back to Quiltan, sat Wynne. They were some distance away, and while the room was crowded it was impossible to see them from the table he had taken.
Quiltan took a cigarette from his case and passed out to wait for Eve.
As she stepped from the lift he thought her the most wonderful being he had ever seen. Fragile—adorable—desirable—everything to set a man’s heart on fire.
With a passion he could not control he whispered: