"
"Must have been," said Benham. "Certainly--must have been. And the
call you think came from--?"
"There again, sir, I'm quite in the dark. But of course, sir, it's
usually Mrs. Skelmersdale, sir. Just about her time in the
afternoon. On an average, sir. . . ."
7
"I went out of London to think about my life."
It was manifest that Lady Marayne did not believe him.
"Alone?" she asked.
"Of course alone."
"STUFF!" said Lady Marayne.
She had taken him into her own little sitting-room, she had thrown
aside gloves and fan and theatre wrap, curled herself comfortably
into the abundantly cushioned corner by the fire, and proceeded to a
mixture of cross-examination and tirade that he found it difficult
to make head against. She was vibrating between distressed
solicitude and resentful anger. She was infuriated at his going
away and deeply concerned at what could have taken him away. "I was
worried," he said. "London is too crowded to think in. I wanted to
get myself alone."
"And there I was while you were getting yourself alone, as you call
it, wearing my poor little brains out to think of some story to tell
people.
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