"Certainly, I mean it," she replied with a slight accession of hauteur that
sat rather charmingly upon her. She rose quickly, as a sound of voices
heralded the return of the rest of the party. "And I'd prefer you not to
talk to me any more--like that," she added.
Forrester's eyes followed her as she moved back into the room and began
chatting pleasantly with her returning guests. There was a look of
amusement in them mingled with a certain unqualified admiration.
"Game little devil!" he muttered to himself.
Soon afterwards the M.F.H.'s wife rose to go, and, graciously offering the
Tempests a lift home in her car, swept them away with her. When they had
taken their departure Lady Susan declared that Ann was looking tired and
that it was high time she and Brett started on their homeward tramp.
"You'll be feeling quite yourself again by next week, my dear," she said.
"Just in time for Brett's party on the _Sphinx_," she added, smiling.
A faint look of hesitation crossed Ann's face. Brett saw it instantly.
"You promised to come," he said swiftly, almost as though he dared her to
retract her acceptance.
Ann forced herself to meet his glance. She was conscious of an inward qualm
of fear and wished to heaven that she had never accepted the invitation
to dine on board his yacht.
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