So seldom is it in a
good-humour that he--"
"I'll be off at once," exclaimed Barnes, arising.
"By Jove, it is half-past ten. I had no idea--Good night, Miss
Cameron. Sorry my time is up. I am sure I could have made you hate
your own sex in another half hour."
She held out her hand. "One of our virtues is that we never pretend to
be in love with our own sex, Mr. Barnes. That, at least, is a luxury
reserved solely for your sex."
He bowed low over her hand. "A necessity, if I may be pardoned for
correcting you." He pressed her hand re-assuringly and left her.
She had arisen and was standing, straight and slim by the corner of
the fireplace, a confident smile on her lips.
"If you are to be long in the neighbourhood, Mr. Barnes," said his
hostess, "you must let us have you again."
"My stay is short, I fear. You have only to reveal the faintest sign
that I may come, however, and I'll hop into my seven league boots
before you can utter Jack Robinson's Christian name. Good night, Mrs.
Van Dyke. I have you all to thank for a most delightful evening. May I
expect to see you down our way, Mr. Van Dyke? We have food for man and
beast at all times and in all forms.
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