She dropped on to her knees and pulled the dog's head on to her lap.
"Come and look at the new collar, George," she said, crumpling his ears with her fingers.
I bent down and read the inscription:
"David O'Rane, Esqre, M.P.,
House of Commons"
"It's the only address I know," she explained. "George, I simply can't bear to think of him going off and living all alone at Melton—in the dark. Just introduce them and—and please, George, don't tell him it comes from me or I know he'll refuse it."
"I'll do my best," I said.
In the distance I heard the grating sound of a latchkey. Sonia scrambled to her feet with terror in her brown eyes.
"George, was that the front door?"
It was barely nine, but before I could speak the door slammed and cautious feet crossed the hall.
"Any dinner left, George?" O'Rane demanded, as he put his head into the room. "The House is up, and your uncle's gone to the Club. I was rather tired, so I thought I'd come here." He paused to sniff. "Onion sauce! Say there's enough for two!"