'Where are you going, Blake?' inquired Michael anxiously.
It was impossible to keep him, and yet, how could he let him leave him in such a condition?
'I must get away from here!' returned Cyril hoarsely. 'I must be alone somewhere.'
And Michael understood him.
'Let me at least walk with you,' he returned quickly. 'You might meet someone, and perhaps I may be of use. Do not refuse; I will not speak to you.' And, as Cyril made no objection—indeed, it was doubtful whether he even heard what Michael said—he followed him downstairs.
Just as they reached the hall the drawing-room door opened, and, before he could warn Cyril, Audrey came out. She had some music in her hand. She uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure when she saw them.
'Michael, I thought you were lost. What have you been doing with yourself all day? Were you going out with Cyril? Please don't go just yet; it is just beginning to rain, and I want him to practise this duet with me. Will you?' looking up in Cyril's face with one of her bright smiles.
'I cannot; another time. Please do not keep me!'
Cyril hardly knew what he said. He pushed by her as she stood there smiling, with the music in her hand, and went out bareheaded into the rain and darkness.
Audrey looked bewildered.