Maud laughed.
“No. It hasn’t had any effect on my game so far. I went round in eighty-six the other day.”
Reggie sighed enviously.
“Women are wonderful!” he said. “Well, I'll be legging it and fetching the car. When you're ready, stroll along down the road and wait for me.”
When he had gone, Maud pulled a small newspaper clipping from her pocket. She had extracted it from yesterday’s copy of the Morning Post’s society column. It contained only a few words:
Mr. Wilbur Raymond has returned to his residence at No. 11a Belgrave Square from a prolonged voyage in his yacht, the Siren.
Maud did not know Mr. Wilbur Raymond, and yet that paragraph had sent the blood tingling through every vein in her body. For as she had indicated to Reggie, when the Wilbur Raymonds of this world return to their town residences, they bring with them their nephew and secretary, Geoffrey Raymond. And Geoffrey Raymond was the man Maud had loved ever since the day when she had met him in Wales.
