"Going over to the Farradays for tea," he exclaimed. There was a faint twinkle in his eye as he said to Anthony: "Don't suppose you're coming?"
Anthony shook his head and Race went out of the room. He paused in the doorway to say, over his shoulder: "Good show."
"That," said Anthony as the door closed behind him, "denotes supreme British approval."
Iris asked in a calm voice: "He thought I'd done it, didn't he?"
"You mustn't hold that against him," said Anthony. "You see, he's known so many beautiful spies, all stealing secret formulas and wheedling secrets out of major-generals, that it's soured his nature and warped his judgment. He thinks it's just got to be the beautiful girl in the case!"
"Why did you know I hadn't, Tony?"
"Just love, I suppose," said Anthony lightly.
Then his face changed, grew suddenly serious. He touched a little vase by Iris's side in which was a single sprig of grey-green with a mauve flower.
"What's that doing in flower at this time of year?"
"It does sometimes - just an odd sprig - if it's a mild autumn."
Anthony took it out of the glass and held it for a moment against his cheek. He half-closed his eyes and saw rich chestnut hair, laughing blue eyes and a red passionate mouth...
He said in a quiet conversational tone: "She's not around now any longer, is she?"
"Who do you mean?"
"You know who I mean. Rosemary... I think she knew, Iris, that you were in danger."
He touched the sprig of fragrant green with his lips and threw it lightly out of the window.
"Good-bye, Rosemary, thank you..."
Iris said softly: "That's for remembrance..."
And more softly still: "Pray, love, remember..."
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