"Gladys is not coming," she said.
His face brightened.
"Not coming! Ought I to be sorry, I wonder?"
She laughed.
"That's rude."
"I'm sorry." He tucked the rug round her, and they started away down the drive. "You don't want the wheel, I suppose?" he asked whimsically.
Christine shook her head.
"Have you—you been crying?" Kettering asked abruptly.
Christine flushed scarlet.
"Whatever makes you ask me that?"