How long is it since that evening in the studio?"
"About a month, darling. This is Christmas week. To-morrow will be
Christmas Eve."
Ronnie considered this in silence.
Then: "Let's walk up and down," he said. "It ought to be too cold to sit
about in Christmas week."
She rose and they walked along the sea-front together.
Ronnie glanced behind them. The man on the seat had risen also and was
following at a little distance.
"What cheek of that chap," he said. "He seems determined to overhear
our conversation. Shall I tell him to be off?"
"No, dear; please don't," she answered hurriedly. "He cannot possibly
overhear us."
Presently she dropped her muff and stooped to pick it up. But Ronnie
turned also, and saw her make a sign to the man following them, who at
once sat down on the nearest seat.
Then poor Ronnie knew.
"I suppose he is a keeper," he said.
"Oh, no, darling! He is only a trained attendant; just a sort of valet
for you. Such a nice man and so attentive. He brushes your clothes."
"I see," said Ronnie. "Valets are quite useful people. But they do not
as a rule sit reading in the middle of the morning, on the next seat to
their master and mistress! Do they? However, if Dick is coming
to-morrow, we can discuss the valet question with him. Take my arm,
Helen. I feel a bit shaky when I walk. Now tell me--why did we come
here?"
"They thought the change of scene, the perfect quiet, and the bracing
air might do wonders for you, Ronnie.
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