"Well?" said I.
"You don't suppose these subtle diplomatists have left us alone to discuss Bolshevism or Infant Welfare?"
There was the ironical gleam in her eyes and twist in her lips that had attracted me since her childhood. I have always liked intelligent women.
"Have they been badgering you?"
"Good Lord, no. But a female baby in a pink sash would see what they're driving at. Haven't they been discussing me and Andrew Lackaday?"
"They have," said I, "and they're perfect dears. They've built up a fairy-tale around you and have taken long leases in it and are terribly anxious that the estate shan't be put into liquidation."
"That's rather neat," she said.
"I thought so, myself," said I.
Stretched in an arm-chair she looked for some minutes into the glow of the wood fire. Then she turned her head quickly.
"You haven't given me away?"