"You must talk about it--here and now," she said. "It's the only time I've seen you since--Dieppe. What are you going to do, Willie?"
He looked round. Then, with a smile, he offered his arm.
"I must take you to have something," he said. "Come, we must walk through the room."
She rose and took his arm. Bowing and smiling, she turned to greet her acquaintances. She stopped to speak to Lord Detchmore, and exchanged a word with her host.
"Yes. What are you going to do?" she asked again, aloud.
They had reached the room where the _buffet_ stood. Mrs. Dennison, after a few words to Lady Valentine, who was still there, sat down on a chair a little remote from the crowd. Ruston brought her a cup of coffee, and stood in front of her, with the half-conscious intention of shielding her from notice. She drank the coffee hastily; its heat brought a slight glow to her face.
"You're going as you planned?" she asked.
He answered in low, dry tones, emptied of all emotion.
She stretched out her hand towards him imploringly.
"Willie, you must take me with you," she said.
"I can't stay here. I can't stay with him."
Her lips quivered; he took her cup from her (he feared that she would let it fall), and set it on the table. Behind them he heard merry voices; Semingham's was loud among them. The voices were coming near them.
"I must think," he whispered. "We can't talk now. I must see you again."
"Carlin's. Come up to-morrow. I can arrange it. For heaven's sake, begin to talk about something."
"I could stand here and tell it to the room," she said, "sooner than live as I live now."
He had no time to answer. Semingham's arm was on his shoulder. Lord Detchmore stood by his side.
"I want," said Semingham, "to introduce Lord Detchmore to you, Mrs. Dennison. It's not at all disinterested of me. You must persuade him--you know what about."
"No, no," laughed the Minister, "I mustn't be talked to; it's highly improper, and I distrust my virtue."
"I'll be bound now that you were talking about Omofaga this very minute," pursued Semingham.
"You're a great enthusiast, Mrs. Dennison," smiled Detchmore. "You ought to go out, you know. Can't you persuade your husband to lend you to the expedition?"
Ruston could have killed the man for his _malapropos_ jesting. Maggie Dennison seemed unable to answer it. Semingham broke in lightly,