"No," I said dully; "Cynthia's flat."
He stared at me, and I recollected myself.
"Manor Court, Marylebone Road," I observed harshly.
He spun round and we retraced our way up Bond Street.
Just as we were emerging from the bottom of Harley Street, Bruce leaned across and laid his hand on my arm.
"After I've seen Cynthia," he said brokenly, "I shall unwish that first wish."
I nodded.
The taxi drew up at the gate of Manor Court and we got out.
The driver looked at us with interest.
"Just in time, I was," he observed; "they'd 'ave 'ad you in another minit."