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Macmaster said:

'It's late; we're breakfasting at the Duchemins' at ten.' Tietjens answered:

'Don't worry, sonny. We'll be there for your pretty lady.' He added: 'Wait another quarter of an hour. I want to talk to you.'

Macmaster sat down again and deliberately began to review the day. It had begun with disaster, and in disaster it had continued.

And, with something like a bitter irony, Macmaster remembered and brought up now for digestion the parting words of General Campion to himself. The General had limped with him to the hall door up at Mountby and, standing patting him on the shoulder, tall, slightly bent and very friendly, had said:

'Look here, Christopher Tietjens is a splendid fellow. But he needs a good woman to look after him. Get him back to Sylvia as quick as you can. Had a little tiff, haven't they? Nothing serious? Chrissie hasn't been running after the skirts? No? I daresay a little. No? Well then...'

Macmaster had stood like a gate-post, so appalled. He had stuttered:

'No! No!'