As they were speaking, Beryl Gaselee, dainty and fair-haired, in a cool, white cotton dress, suddenly came up behind them exclaiming:
“Good-morning, Ronnie! Iris is waiting breakfast patiently for you.”
“Oh, I really forgot, dear!” replied the young airman. “Collins and I have been so busy for the last hour.”
Together they crossed the lawn arm-in-arm to the pleasant, old-world house.
When ten minutes later the pair sat down to breakfast in the sunlit dining-room, the long windows of which led out upon an ancient terrace embowered with roses, Mrs. Remington came in, greeting Ronald with the protest—
“I wish, when you come in, you’d put your silencer on your boots, Ronnie! You woke me up just at four, and Toby started to bark.”
“By Jove! Did I? Lots of apologies! I’ll creep about in my socks in future,” declared the culprit, stooping to pat the miniature “pom.”
“Did Sheppard give you the telephone message?” Mrs. Remington asked.
“No. What message?”
“Why, one that came in the middle of the night?”