"Some time," she answered with studied vagueness.
The simmering suspicions of eight ambiguous weeks were brought to boiling point in Sylvia's mind.
"How long?" she repeated.
Elsie leaned forward, a finger to her lips; before she could speak, the hall was filled with the creak of heavy boots and Nigel appeared in the doorway.
"She's not here," he announced.
"Who were you looking for?" Elsie inquired, masking her impatience at his untimely return.
"Your sister."
"Oh, I could have told you that."
"She was here."
"Was she? What a pity you didn't come sooner! Why, Mr. Merivale invited you on Sunday, he told me. When he met you at your Club. I'm afraid you and the—er—gentleman outside have had your journey in vain."