“I often wonder that – myself,” Gretna responded artlessly. “To tell you the truth, I am a little afraid. London seems – so big and so frightening when one thinks about it. But I shall be with my friend. I am sure she will permit me to stay with her until I find some employment.”

“Have you known her a long time?”

“Ever since I was born,” Gretna answered.

“Perhaps you will permit me to call and see you one day.”

He noticed the hesitation before Gretna replied and wondered why she dropped her eyes from his, obviously intent on making a fuss of one of the spaniels.

He could not guess that once again she was wondering whether to tell him the truth and explain who she was.

It seemed, she thought, so ungracious to go on deceiving him when he was so kind. And then she remembered that, if he knew the truth about her, there then would be the embarrassment that she should not have been dining alone with him unchaperoned.

Because he believed her to be a niece of dear, fat kind Mrs. Merryweather upstairs and because he believed that she came of farmers’ stock, then the conventions could be disregarded and no one feel the worse for their absence.

As if such thoughts brought Mrs. Merryweather’s suffering to her mind, Gretna looked up suddenly.

“I wonder if the physician has called?” she asked.

“I will enquire,” the Marquis answered.

He rang the bell and told the footman who answered it to make enquiries immediately.

The man had hardly left the room before his place was taken by the butler.

“The physician has just left, my Lord. He asked me to inform your Lordship that the lady, while suffering from bruises and shock, has broken no bones. He has given her a sleeping draught and she should be quite well enough to travel in the morning.”

“That is splendid news,” Gretna cried, clasping her hands together. “I was so worried lest she had really cracked a rib – as the housekeeper thought.”

The butler withdrew and the Marquis turned to her,

“I am glad your aunt is no worse, but sorry that there is now no excuse for me to press you into staying a little longer. Perhaps in the morning you might care to consider an invitation to linger here for a day or two.”

“I would like it – above all things, my Lord,” Gretna replied softly. “This house is so lovely. But my friend will be expecting me in London.”

“In that case I must not try and divert your plans,” the. Marquis smiled.

He sounded almost relieved, she thought, and wondered if he had given her the invitation impulsively and then regretted it.

She peeped up at him from under her eyelashes. How grim and uncompromising he could look, she reflected, when he was not speaking. It was almost as if he was being nice in spite of himself.