The cigarette was still burning in the corner of her lips.
"I decline," she said, "to throw away my cigarette for any one." "Least of all, I trust," a familiar voice interposed, "for me." Philippa sat upright at once, smoothed her hair and looked a little resentfully at Lessingham.

He was wearing a brown tweed knickerbocker suit, and he carried a gun under his arm.
"Whatever are you doing up here," she demanded, "and do you know anything about our game laws?
You can't come out into the woods here and shoot things just because you feel like it." He disposed of his gun and seated himself between them.
"That is quite all right," he assured her.

"Your neighbour, Mr.
Windover, to whom these woods apparently belong, asked me to bring my gun out this morning and try and get a woodcock." "Gracious! You don't mean that Mr.Windover is here, too ?" Philippa demanded, looking around.

Lessingham shook his head.
"His car came for him at the other side of the wood," he explained.

"He was wanted to go on the Bench.