The lounge was almost deserted. Most of the visitors were dressing for dinner, but Feathers was lounging against the open swing door which led into the garden.
His hands were deep thrust into his pockets and he was looking out over the sea with moody eyes.
Marie ran up to him breathlessly. "Mr. Dakers——"
He turned at once. "Yes." He noticed the flushed agitation of her face. "Is anything the matter?" he asked in swift concern.
"Yes! I mean no! Oh, it's nothing much, at any rate, but—but I told Chris you were going to take me to a concert to-night, that you had got two tickets . . ." She broke off agitatedly, only to rush on again. "Of course, I know you're not! I only just said it, but—but if he asks you—oh, you wouldn't mind not telling him, would you?"
Feathers looked utterly mystified, but she was too much in earnest for him to smile, so he said quietly:
"There is rather a good show on the pier, so I'm told, I'll get some tickets and we'll go."
She flushed all over her face and her lips quivered.
"I know it's horrid of me, and I can't explain; there isn't any need for you to take me at all, really, but . . . but I knew Chris wanted to play billiards——" She broke off, she had said more than she intended.
65 Feathers laughed. "Chris is a goth! I like music, and I'm sure you do, so we'll snap our fingers at him and go to the concert."