It was when Anne had come in from her moonlight ride with Richard, shutting the door carefully behind her, that she found Geoffrey Fox waiting for her in the big front room.
"Oh," she stammered.
"And you really have the grace to blush? Do you know what time it is?"
"No."
"Twelve! Midnight! And you have been riding with only the chauffeur for chaperone."
"Well?"
"And you have kept me waiting. That's the worst of it. You may break all of the conventional commandments if you wish. But you mustn't keep me waiting."
His laugh rang high, his cheeks were flushed. Anne had never seen him in a mood like this. In his loose coat with a flowing black tie and with his ruffled hair curling close about his ears, he looked boyish and handsome like the pictures she had seen of Byron in an old book.
"Sit down, sit down," he was insisting; "now that you are here, you must listen."