“You’re not listening, Evelyn.”
“Yes, I am, Owen. You said that I had always said that a lover was much more exciting than a husband.”
“If so, why then—”
They stared blankly at each other. Everything had been said. They were engaged to be married. What was the use of further argument? She mentioned that it was getting late, and that Lady Duckle was waiting for her.
“She will tell her first,” he thought, “and she’ll tell Lady Ascott. They’ll all be talking of it at supper. ‘So Owen has gone off at last,’ they’ll say. I’ll hear of it at the club to-morrow.”
“I wonder what Lady Ascott will think?” he said, as he put her into the carriage.
“I don’t know.... I shall not go to the ball. Tell him to take me home.”
She lay back in the blue shadows of the brougham, striving to come to terms
