"Well, my dear boy, you--you know
what women are!"
Blessington was only twenty-three. He reddened again, and
assumed an air of profundity. "I know. sir," he said, with a
shake of the head.
Loder's sense of humor was keen, but he kept a grave face. "I
knew you'd catch my meaning; but I want you to do something
more. If Lady Astrupp should ask you who was in her tent this
past ten minutes, I want you--" Again he stopped, looking at
his companion's face.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want you to tell an immaterial lie for me."
Blessington returned his glance; then he laughed a little
uncomfortably. "But surely, sir--"
"She recognized me, you mean?" Loder's eyes were as keen as
steel.
Yes."
"Then you're wrong. She didn't."
Blessington's eyebrows went up.
There was silence. Loder glanced across the room. Eve had
parted from the girl in green and was moving towards them,
exchanging smiles and greetings as she came.
"My wife is coming back," he said. "Will you do this for me,
Blessington? It--it will smooth things--" He spoke quickly,
continuing to watch Eve.
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