To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. I could not keep away any longer. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your liberation to me, also. Hers were less noble, yet stately. You see, I have had to look after myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport.
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