"Not that way. We've a private road now—runs along the back of the studios."
He crossed the room, and opened a door which led out into a narrow stone passage roofed in by glass.
I followed him along this till we came to another door, on which Tommy tapped twice with his knuckles. In a moment we heard a key turn and Joyce was standing on the threshold. When she saw who it was she gave a little cry of welcome and held out both her hands.
"But how nice!" she exclaimed. "I never thought you'd be here so soon."
We had each taken a hand, and talking and laughing at the same time, she pulled us in after her and shut the door.
"At last!" she cried softly; "at last!" And for a second or two we all three stood there just gripping each other's hands and not saying a word. It certainly was rather a good feeling.
Tommy was the first to break the silence. "Damn it," he said huskily, "if Neil didn't look so exactly like a brigand chief I believe I should blubber. Eh, Joyce—how do you feel?"
"I feel all right," said Joyce. "And he doesn't look a bit like a brigand chief. He looks splendid." She stood back and surveyed me with a sort of tender proprietorship.
"I suppose we shall get used to it," remarked Tommy. "It nearly gave me heart disease to begin with." Then, going and locking the side door, he added cheerfully, "I vote we have supper at once. I've had nothing except whisky since I came off the boat."
"Well, there's heaps to eat," said Joyce. "I've been out marketing in the King's Road."