But he had rung the bell, and was tidying his papers into neat, superfluous bundles.
Philip had the courage to shake me by the hand and say he hoped to see me again soon. I am not sufficiently cynical to say it was prompted by the reflection that Gladys was my niece, because he was every whit as cordial to the Seraph.
I shook hands with Sylvia, and found her watching the Seraph fold and pocket the two thousand pound cheque.
"He's taking it!" she said.
"Your father should have been ashamed to make the offer. It serves him right if his offer's accepted. Don't blame the Seraph. If Nigel and your father proceed on the lines they've gone on this afternoon, one or both of us will have to cut the country. The Seraph's not made of money; he'll want all he can lay hands on. Now then, Sylvia, it's two lives you're playing with."
She had not yet made up her mind, and indecision chilled the warmth of her eyes and the smile on her lips. I watched the effort, and wondered if it would suffice for the Seraph. Then question and answer told their tale.
"When shall we see you again?" I heard her ask as I walked to the door.
"I can hardly say," came the low reply. "I'm leaving England shortly. I shall go across India, and spend some time in Japan—and then visit the Islands of the South Seas. It's a thing I've always wanted to do. After that? I don't know...."