"A halfpenny postcard—any time—just to show you were still alive——"
"But I didn't write to anyone——" he protested.
Violet laughed and turned to the door. In the subdued yellow light her grave beauty was very attractive. Though she smiled still, her eyes were wistful, and I chose to fancy she had not outgrown her old affection so quickly as Loring.
"My dear, I'm not jealous!" she said. "As a mark of friendship, though——"
"Violet, I'm frightfully sorry!" he exclaimed, taking an eager step towards her. "Will that do?"
"Are you going off again?"
"I shall stay as long as there's anything to stay for."
The direct and obvious route from St. James's Court either to Princes Gardens or Gray's Inn is perhaps not by Curzon Street, but it was so long since we had been together that O'Rane and I sat talking in the library of Loring House until there was barely time for a Turkish bath before breakfast. The Yately seat was vacant, and Raney proposed to begin his canvass in two days' time. He was full of rhetoric and indignation on the condition of Ireland and rehearsed his election speeches at some length.
"It's as bad as you like," Loring interrupted, "but it won't come to anything."
"Are you in the Special Reserve?" O'Rane asked suddenly.