Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed.
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