He was helping her into her cloak and did not answer the question. Suddenly she turned round and looked into his eyes.
"Would you, Seraph?" I heard her repeat.
"I shall treat you—as you deserve to be treated," he answered slowly.
"That's not an answer," she objected.
"What's the good of asking him?" I said as the rest of our party joined us.
In the absence of Joyce I spent large portions of a dull and interminably long night smoking excessive cigarettes and leaning against a wall to watch the dancers. Towards three o'clock I discovered an early edition of an evening paper and read it from cover to cover. Canadian Pacifics were rising or falling, and some convulsion was taking place in Rio Tintos.
The only other news of interest I found in the Cause List. I remember the case of Wylton v. Wylton and Sleabury was down for trial one day towards the end of that week.