car," Brenda said, and the pair of them
went out together.

Jervaise stretched himself with a self-conscious air. "It will take him
the best part of an hour getting the car into the garage and all that," he
remarked, looking at me.

I could see, of course, that he wanted me to go; his hint had been,
indeed, almost indecently pointed; and I had no wish to intrude myself
upon them, if Anne's desire coincided with his. I got to my feet and stood
like an awkward dummy trying to frame some excuse for leaving the room. I
could think of nothing that was not absurdly obvious. I was on the point
of trying to save the last remnant of my dignity by walking out, when Anne
relieved my embarrassment. I knew that she had been watching me, but I was
afraid to look at her. I cannot say why, exactly, but I felt that if I
looked at her just then I should give myself away before Jervaise.

"I must go and see about Mr. Melhuish's room," she said.

She was half-way to the door when Jervaise stopped her.

"I should rather like to speak to you for a minute first," he remarked,
and scowled again at me.

"There's nothing more to be said until Arthur has seen Mr. Jervaise," Anne
replied, as though any subject other than the affair Brenda, could not
conceivably be of interest to her.

"It wasn't about them," Jervaise said awkwardly.

"What was it, then?" Anne asked. I dared to look at her, now, and her face
was perfectly serious as she added, "Was it about the milk, or eggs, or
anything?"

Without doubt there was a delicious strain of minx in her!

Jervaise lost his temper. I believe that if I had offered to fight him,
then, he would have welcomed the opportunity.

"Oh! you know what I want to say," he snorted.

"Then why not say it?" Anne replied.

He turned savagely upon me. "Haven't you got the common sense..." he
began, but Anne cut him short.

"Oh! we don't suspect _our_ guests of spying," she said.

I was nearly sorry for Jervaise at that moment. He could not have looked
any more vindictive than he looked already, but he positively trembled
with anger. He could not endure to be thwarted. Nevertheless, he displayed
a certain measure of self-control.

"Very well," he said as calmly as he could. "If you're going to take that
tone..."

"Yes?" Anne prompted him. She showed no sign of being in any way
disconcerted.

"It will hardly help your brother," he concluded.

"I made a mistake in trying to help him this morning," she