"D'you mind being left alone with me like this?" he asked. "You know, it might have happened to either of the other cars."
"I'd sooner be with you than with Lord Pennington or Sir Adolf," she admitted.
"If you don't mind, you can bet I don't," he answered, with a gleam of excitement in his dull eyes.
"It's rather a joke," she went on, looking round the old-fashioned, heavily-timbered room; and then warningly—"Provided it isn't repeated."
"I shan't say anything," he promised.
Sonia found that it was one thing for her to treat their misadventure as a joke and quite another to be exchanging the language of conspiracy with him.
"That'll do, Fatty," she said. "And it wasn't what I meant."
Webster's eyes dulled at the rebuke.
"No offence," he murmured indistinctly. "May I smoke?"
"You may do whatever you like. I'm going to bed."