“You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. ‘Take this. But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel.
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