"It was Violet Loring."
"Oh, I wish I'd known that! When next you see her, you can tell her she's a rude pig not to have pulled up. She must have seen me."
"She was in rather a hurry," George explained. "As a matter of fact, it was me she came to see."
I suppose his voice betrayed uneasiness or at least embarrassment, for O'Rane turned to him with quick sympathy.
"Nothing wrong, I hope?" he asked. "The boy's all right?"
"Oh, it wasn't that." George looked at me almost despairingly, but I could only shrug my shoulders and leave him to make up his own mind. "She came in to say that Sonia's a bit seedy," he went on. "I—as a matter of fact, I saw her for a moment yesterday and, as she was rather off colour, I thought it would be a friendly act for Vi to look her up. I don't know if you heard Lady Maitland telling me at lunch the other day that she was a bit done up."
O'Rane's face became rigid, and his voice was as set as his features.
"I didn't hear anything about it. I—You ought to have told me, George. What's the matter with her?"
George looked at me again, without winning any more help than before.