"It is a quarter past four, sir.

Mrs.Tresslyn telephoned a few minutes ago, sir." "Ah! That she would be late ?" "No, sir.

To inquire if--ahem!--if Mr.Braden was likely to be here this afternoon." Anne started violently.

A quick, hunted expression leaped into her eyes as she looked about her.

Something rushed up into her throat, something that smothered.
"You informed her, of course, that Mr.Braden declines to honour us with his presence," said Mr.Thorpe suavely.
"Yes, sir, in a way." "Ahem! Well, my dear, make yourself quite at home.