"I know you are going to bully me, Patricia." Bowen's eyes smiled; but there was in his voice a note of enquiry.
"Oh! please let us escape before the others come in sight," said Patricia, looking over her shoulder anxiously. "They'll all be out in a moment. I left them straining at their leashes and swallowing scalding coffee so as to get a glimpse of a real, live lord at close quarters."
As she spoke Patricia stabbed on a toque.
"Shall I want anything warmer than this?" she enquired as Bowen helped her into a long fur-trimmed coat.
"I brought a big fur coat for you in case it gets cold," he replied, and he held open the door for her to pass.
"Quick," she whispered, "they're coming."
As she ran down the steps she nodded brightly to Gustave, who stood almost bowed down with the burden of his respect for an English lord.
As Bowen swung the car round, Patricia was conscious that at the drawing-room and lounge windows Galvin House was heavily massed. Unable to find a space, Miss Sikkum and Mr. Bolton had come out on to the doorstep and, as the jerked forward, Miss Sikkum waved her pocket handkerchief.
Patricia shuddered.
For some time they were silent. Patricia was content to enjoy the unaccustomed sense of swift movement coupled with the feeling of the luxury
