In the train, on the homeward journey, Marcelle, who was sitting by Godfrey’s side—Quong Ho sat opposite reading an evening paper—said to him:
“You seem to be great friends with Lady Edna Donnithorpe.”
“The best,” said he.
“Do you usually let her know when you’re coming up to town?”
Godfrey reflected for the fraction of a second. Lady Edna had certainly committed the unprecedented act of giving herself away. Frankness was therefore the best policy.
“Sometimes I do,” he replied innocently. “On the off chance of her being able to give me a cup of tea. It’s only once in a blue moon that she can, for she’s always all over the place.”
“She’s a very beautiful woman, my dear.”
“Your taste is as perfect as Quong Ho’s.”
Quong Ho, hearing his name, looked with enquiring politeness over the top of his newspaper.
“Miss Baring and I were talking of Lady Edna.”