breakfast then together." He had one of his happy thoughts. "I say—we'll go out."
"That was just what I hoped. I've brought my hat."
"You are clever! We'll go to a café." Maisie was already at the door; he glanced round the room. "A moment—my stick." But there appeared to be no stick. "No matter; I left it—oh!" He remembered, with an odd drop, and came out.
"You left it in London?" she asked as they went downstairs.
"Yes—in London: fancy!"
"You were in such a hurry to come," Maisie explained.
He had his arm round her. "That must have been the reason." Half way down he stopped short again, slapping his leg. "And poor Mrs. Wix!"
Maisie' s face just showed a shadow. "Do you want her to come?"
"Dear, no—I want to see you alone."
"That 's the way I want to see you!" she replied. "Like before."
"Like before!" he gayly echoed. "But I mean has she had her coffee?"
"No, nothing."
