“Have you got his address?” she demanded.
Christopher mentioned a Club.
“That’s all I can find,” he said. “But why——”
“Warthog’s been sacked,” said Audrey with blazing eyes. “That’s why.”
“The devil he has,” said Christopher. “What about me?”
“What about Sundial?” said Audrey. “The village has lost its
shepherd—its only friend.”
“It’s still got its Queen,” said John. “I can see that.”
Audrey stamped her foot.
“Don’t laugh,” she said. “I’m in earnest. I’m going to write to the
brute.”
“Audrey, I beg you——”
“Show me the house,” said Audrey. “As soon as I’ve seen it, I’m going
straight back to write.”
Christopher took out a key and unfastened the padlock.
With the chain in his hand, he looked at her.
“I know every woman does it,” he said gently, “but they don’t all do it
like you.”
Audrey said nothing at all.
In silence they passed up the avenue. . . .
So they came to an archway with a coat of arms cut in the grey stone.
This admitted to a courtyard, silent and sunlit.
For a moment they stood gazing. Then a touch on his arm made Christopher
John look round.
A grave-eyed maiden was looking him in the face.
“I beg your pardon,” she said in a low voice. “I had no right. It was
very”—her eyes fell, and she blushed exquisitely—“very rotten of me to
take it out upon you.”
She was in his arms, and his face three inches away.
“Audrey, my sweet, my darling. . . .”
“No, no! Not that! Not that! I mean . . .”
The man let her go instantly.
For a moment Audrey stood, with her hand to her heart, breathing
uncertainly.