"That's Janey," cried Len. "Come in, old girl—I want you."
Janey came in. Nigel was nearly dressed, and had begun to shave.
"Breakfast's——" began Janey.
"Yes—I know all about breakfast. That isn't what's the matter. Len wants you to join him in trying to persuade me not to go to London."
"But you're not going to London!..."
"I'm writing this morning to von Gleichroeder to say I've changed my mind."
"No!... Nigel!" cried Janey.
For a moment she stood as if paralyzed, then suddenly she darted towards him, and flung her arms round him, looking up beseechingly into his face.
"Nigel! no!—you mustn't leave us—I can't bear it. Oh, say you won't!"
"Damn you, Janey!—can't you see I've got a razor in my hand?"