"Mr. Benham will be asleep. But to-morrow we shall have a stupendous surprise for him. Yes, you shall see him. He will be overwhelmed."
She kept a white and stark reserve.
"You do not thank me! Am I not the kindest of friends? You will find me even more sympathetic than the little fencing-master with the black jowl. Besides, I have the fly in amber, and he has not."
Nance yawned behind her hand.
"You have a wonderful imagination, Chevalier."
He leaned over and stroked the mare's neck.
"Étoile, you are carrying the Queen of Hearts to-night. She is very proud, my child. She twists her mouth at your master."
It was two in the morning when they reached the Brick House. There were candles burning and supper set out in the oak dining-room. De Rothan was grandiloquent and gracious. He bowed them in as though he put the whole house at their service.
Durrell was morose and bitter, and Nance tired. Neither wine nor food was welcome. Distraught and restless, they avoided each other's eyes.
De Rothan called for candles.