“You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. ” He took up his hat. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed.
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