"Doesn't he?"

"Don't ask me what he _means_."

She shrugged her shoulders violently. "Come over here and sit by me. I
want to talk to you. Seriously."

She had shifted her seat and made a place for him beside her on the
bench. Her flushed, handsome face covered him with its smile. You could
see she was used to being obeyed when she smiled like that; when she sent
that light out of her eyes men did what she wanted. All her life the men
she knew had obeyed her, all except McClane. She didn't know John.

He raised his head and looked at her with cool, concentrated dislike.

"I'd rather stay where I am if you don't mind. I want to talk to
Miss Redhead."

"Oh--" Mrs. Rankin's flush went out like a blown flame. Her lips made
one pale, tight thread above the set square of her chin. All her light
was in her eyes. They stared before her at the glass door where McClane
was entering.

He came swaggering and slipped into his place between her and Alice
Bartrum with his air of not seeing Mrs. Rankin, of not seeing Charlotte
and John, of not seeing anything he didn't want to see. Presently he
bobbed round in his seat so as to see Sutton, and began talking to him
excitedly.

At the end of it Charlotte and Sutton found themselves alone, smiling