‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. "There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up, joyfully, and proving by the exclamation that her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised.
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