"If I had my life over again," he answered slowly, "I should alter—nothing."
Lord Ettrick looked at him with raised eyebrows, chewing his under-lip reflectively.
"I wonder how long you'll say that," he murmured.
A page-boy threaded his way to the table and stood bashfully at a distance with a tarnished salver pressed against his buttons.
"Wanted on the 'phone, sir," he whispered.
Eric rose resignedly and followed the page to a dark, ill-ventilated box behind the porters' desk in the hall.
"Hullo!"
"Is that Eric? Say what you like, my staff-work's extraordinarily efficient!" Barbara's voice rippled into laughter. "You weren't at your flat, I just divined that you'd be lunching at your club. I looked in Who's Who to see which it was.… How are you, Eric, dear? I haven't seen or heard of you since last night."
Eric's utterance hardened and became precise.
"I was asleep then; and I'm at lunch now."