To atone for her defection, she had dismissed the carriage, and allowed him to see her home after the tea at the Salvation Army Barracks. It was already night, but the moon had risen, and lent a tenderness to things. Lady Phayre was glad of its aid, for it was on her conscience to leave Goddard with comfortable impressions.
“I have done very little,” she replied.
“You have advised me at every turn,” said Goddard.
“You have advised yourself while talking to me.”
“Anyhow, I could not have got on without you.”
“Believe it then, if it pleases you,” she said softly. “You can write me a daily account of things, if you like—and I will go on ‘advising’ you. Will that do?”
“You are too good to me,” he said fervently.
They walked on a little in silence. Then she asked him how much longer he thought the strike would last.
“Another fortnight must see the end of the employers’ resources,” he said with conviction. “The game of bluff can’t last longer.”
“And are you sure that the Rosenthal story is a myth?”