“Cunning old ruffian,” said Collins to himself.
There was an awkward silence. John had come into the room.
After dinner Collins seized an opportunity when his hostess was alone for a moment. “May I have a word with you?” he said.
Mabel felt almost inclined to make an excuse, but braced herself.
“Certainly,” she said. “Is it anything private?”
“Not at all,” he said, with a smile. “Only that I shall be leaving you to-morrow. I must return to Town, and I wanted to thank you for a very delightful visit.”
“How provoking,” she said. “Mr. Sanders is also going. It is a break-up of the party, and I was enjoying it so much.”
In spite of the words Collins noted an insincerity which was foreign to her nature.
“I must get back to my work,” he said.
“Not about—my father? You have finished with that, haven’t you?”