She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. At first she thought that the woman was just a servant. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. “I think that’s the right name. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. You shall hear from me to-morrow. ” A flush of excitement crept into her cheeks.
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