‘Now, my darling girl, time’s up,’ he said; reluctant, but inflexible, ‘Mother will be picturing us wrecked on the road, and sending poor old Keith to pick up the pieces! Come.’
At that, she knelt upright, and, with a charmingly tender air of proprietorship, passed her hands over his head, bringing them to rest on his shoulders. ‘I’m glad I’ve found you again,’ she said. ‘That strange man at the station rather alarmed me.’
‘You knew how to conjure him away, you witch!’ he answered, stopping her lips with a kiss.
She accepted the kiss, but not his tacit dismissal of the subject. For her, a new sensation not analysed was a sensation wasted.
‘I suppose it was that things hadn’t time to crystallise properly after the break,’ she went on, twisting a button between her finger and thumb. ‘I hope the War Office will be merciful and allow us a good spell this time. Separations are rather uncanny things. You never quite know⸺’
‘Well, if you don’t know me when I get back this evening,’ he said, with perfect gravity, ‘the marriage that has been arranged, etc., had better not take place.’
‘Mark!’ Her voice had a sharp, startled note.
‘That’ll learn you!’ he retorted, smiling. ‘We’ll make out our “para” to-morrow.’
And he heard no more of the subject.
They found Lady Forsyth alone in the drawing-room reading her midday post.