"That's delightful; but who is me?" came the response.
No wonder woman liked him if he spoke like that to them, she decided.
Suddenly she realised that even she herself could not recognise as her own the voice with which she was speaking.
"Patricia," she said.
"Patricia!" There was astonishment, almost incredulity in his voice. So Elton had said nothing. "Where are you? Can I see you?"
Patricia felt her cheeks burn at the eagerness of his tone.
"I'm—I'm going out. I—I'll call for you if you like," she stammered.
"I say, how ripping of you. Come in a taxi or shall I come and fetch you?"
"No, I—I'm coming now, I'm" then she put up the receiver. What was she going to do or say? For a moment she swayed. Was she going to faint? A momentary deadly sickness seemed to overcome her. She fought it back fiercely. She must get to the Quadrant. "I shall have to be a sort of reincarnation of Mrs. Triggs, I think," she murmured as she staggered past the astonished Gustave, who was just coming from the lounge, and out of the front door, where she secured a taxi
