"I'm much better now, thank you," said Jane suddenly. "I believe I could walk home."
"I will go now for that carriage," said he. "And I'll get some bandages. You stick to the hot water."
"I say," said Jane feebly.
"Well? . . ."
"Don't tell anybody, will you? Not till we've had a chance to explain. We're not really so black as—as your fancy painted us. If you let people know, we shall have to fly the neighbourhood. You won't, will you?"
"By Jove," he said, "you are better?"
"I told you I was," said Jane impatiently, "You won't tell, will you?"
"Silent as the grave," said he. "You can trust me. The secret shall be buried with me."
And he went.
The moment the sound of his footsteps had died away on the gravel outside Jane sat up and swung herself round so that both feet hung from the table.
"Lucy," she said, "let's go. Let's get out of it. I can't face him and tell him what fools we were."
"I wasn't," said Lucilla.
"Thank you, dear," said Jane. "What a fool I was, then. If I lean on you we could get away and be gone when he comes back with the carriage."
"We should meet him," said Lucilla, stolidly bathing the ankle, "half way home, and then we should look like fools, both of us. What do you want to run away for? He's very nice. I like him very much, I think he's got a very nice face."
"You think all young men have such nice faces—even chauffeurs," said Jane.
"Well, he has. And look here, Jane. What was he doing here, anyhow? What right had he to send the char-woman off? How did he come by the keys of the cellar? How did he know how big the kitchen table was? You mark my words. He's the owner. . . ."
