“And Marlotte—by the river. Do you know the picturesque little hotel there, and its al-fresco café—the garden with all the little summer-houses?”
“Oh, yes,” she laughed. “Do you know it, too? How gay it is on Sundays in summer. All the artists come out from Paris for the day.”
“It reminds me of Monkey Island, on the Thames. We used to go up there when I was at Eton.”
She looked at him suddenly with a fixed expression, and then said:
“You haven’t told me your name. I only know you as Snookie’s rescuer—you know,” and she laughed.
“My name’s Remington—Raife Remington,” he replied. “The guv’nor lives at Aldborough Park, not far from Tunbridge Wells.”
Her face changed in an instant. She seemed to suddenly hold her breath, though quite imperceptibly. For a moment all the colour left her soft cheeks, but as quickly she recovered all her self-possession, and exclaimed, in a changed tone:
“Is your father Sir Henry Remington?”
“Yes. Why? Do you happen to know him?”
“I—er—oh, no, I don’t!” she replied, endeavouring to conceal her consternation at the discovery. “Only—well—I—of course, had no idea that you were the son of a gentleman so well-known as Sir Henry.”