“Sir Lucien Pyne?” she interrupted.
“Yes.”
“Not from Rita Irvin?”
Quentin Gray started upright in his chair.
“No! But why do you mention her?”
Margaret bit her lip in sudden perplexity.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She glanced apologetically toward Seton. He rose immediately.
“My dear Miss Halley,” he said, “I perceive, indeed I had perceived all along, that you have something of a private nature to communicate to your cousin.”
But Gray stood up, and:
“Seton!... Margaret!” he said, looking from one to the other. “I mean to say, Margaret, if you’ve anything to tell me about Rita... Have you? Have you?”