XVIIIIn the study Lilian Fancourt sat bolt upright on the sofa. Her expression was strained, her face very white. She was looking at the man who sat beside her, his whole appearance that of someone who is quite sure of himself. He said in an easy manner,
“Come along, Lilian—what’s all the fuss about? I’m not going to eat her.”
Lilian brightened a little. She said, “N-no—”
He laughed.
“Anyone would think I was asking you to do something dreadful, my dear.”
“Oh, you’re not—are you!”
“Of course I’m not. I’m only asking you to help me to restore a poor lost girl to her nearest relation. You’ve really no truck with her at all, you know. She’s not married to your nephew and never has been, and if I take her off in the middle of the night, well, she’s run away and that’s all there is to it.
