“Are you in the Service?” She asked him. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. ” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. “I remember when you walked me home. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. There was no rush. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it.
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