At last six o'clock found her, released from the day's work and back at her Club.
But still, still there was no envelope addressed to Miss Gwenna Williams stuck up in the criss-cross tapes of the green-baize-covered letter-board in the hall.
She went upstairs rather slowly to take off her hat. On the landing the voice of Leslie Long called to her from the bathroom.
"Come in here, Taffy. I'm washing blouses. I want to tell you some news."
Gwenna entered the steamy bathroom, to find her chum's tall figure bent in two over the bath and up to its bare elbows in suds of Lux.
"I say, child, you know your locket that you lost at my sister's?" announced Leslie. "It's all right. It's been found."
"Has it?" said Gwenna, not very enthusiastically. "Did I leave it in Mrs. Smith's room?"
"You didn't. You left it in Hugo Swayne's car," said Leslie, wringing out the wet handful of transparent net that would presently serve her as a garment. "That young man came up about half an hour ago to tell you."
"Mr. Swayne did? How kind of him."
"Yes, wasn't it? But not of Mr. Swayne," said Leslie, wringing. "It was--just let out the water and turn me on some fresh hot, will you?--It was the other one that came: the aviator boy."
"What?" cried Gwenna sharply. "Mr. Dampier?"
"Yes. Your bird-man. He came up here--in full plumage and song! Nice grey suit--rather old; brown boots awfully well cleaned--by himself; blue tie, very expensive Burlington Arcade one--lifted from his cousin Hugo, I bet," enlarged Leslie, spreading the blouse out over the white china edge of the bath. "I met him at the gate just as I got back from my old lady's. He asked for my friend--meaning you. Hadn't grasped your name. He came in for ten minutes. But he couldn't wait, Taffy, so----"
Here, straightening herself, Leslie suddenly stopped. She stopped at the sight of the small, blankly dismayed face with which her chum had been listening to this chatter.
And Gwenna, standing aghast against the frosted glass panes of the bathroom door, pronounced, in her softest, most agitated Welsh accent, an everyday Maid's Tragedy in just six words:
"He came! When I was out!"
"He was awfully sorry----"
But Gwenna, seeming not to hear her friend, broke out: "He said he'd come and settle about taking me flying, and there was I think-ing he'd forgotten all about it, and then he did come after all, and I wasn't here! Oh, Leslie!----"
Leslie, sitting on the edge of the bath, gave her a glance that was serious and whimsical, rueful and tender, all at once.
"Yes, you can't understand," mourned Gwenna, "but I did so want to go up in an aeroplane for once in my life! I'd set my heart on it, Leslie, ever since he said about it. It's only now I see how badly I wanted it," explained the younger girl, flushed with emotion, and relapsing into her Welshiest accent, as do all the Welsh in their moments of stress. "And now I shan't get another chance. I know I shan't----"
And such was the impetus of her grief that Leslie could hardly get her to listen to the rest of the news that should be balm for this wound of disappointment; namely, that Mr. Dampier was going to make an appointment with both girls to come and have tea with him at his rooms, either on Saturday or Sunday.
"He'll write to you," concluded Leslie Long, "and let you know which. I said we'd go either day, Taffy."
Gwenna, caught up into delight again from the lowest depths of disappointment, could hardly trust herself to speak. Surely Leslie must think her a most awful baby, nearly crying because she'd had an outing postponed! So the young girl (laughing a little shakily) put up quite a plucky fight to treat it all as quite a trifle....
Even the next morning at breakfast she took it quite casually that there was a note upon her plate stamped with the address of the Aero Club. She even waited a moment before she opened it and read in a handwriting as small as if it had been traced by a crow-quill:
"Monday night.
"DEAR MISS WILLIAMS,
"Will you and Miss Long come to tea with me at my place about 4.30 on Sunday? I find I shall not have to go to Hendon on that day. I'll come and call for you if I may.
"Yours sincerely,
"P. DAMPIER."
"At last!" thought Gwenna to herself, rather breathlessly, as she put the note back into the envelope. "Now he'll settle about when I'm to go flying with him. Oh! I do, do hope there's nothing going to get in the way of that!"
