"How can I thank you?" he murmured. "If I had all the rest of my life to
do it in, instead of a few minutes, it wouldn't be too much. You were
perfect in your manner, not anxious, only annoyed; just the right air for
a self-respecting Mrs. Smith."

They both laughed, and Annesley was surprised that she could laugh
naturally and gaily. Presently she laughed again, when Mr. Smith remarked
that she had missed her vocation in not being an actress--she, the
country mouse, who had hardly been inside a theatre.

The two lingered over their dinner, watched with impatience by the men
at the other table, who had ordered only one dish and paid for it
immediately, that they might be ready for anything at an instant's
notice. They had also a small bottle of wine, which they sipped
abstemiously as an excuse to remain after their food had been eaten.

When at last Mr. and Mrs. Smith had finished their _bombe surprise_, and
trifled with some fruit, Annesley said: "Evidently they don't care how
long they have to wait! I suppose there's nothing for us to do but to
go?"

"Oh, yes, there's still something," said Smith. "We'll have coffee in the
foyer, and see what the enemy's next move is. It would be a mistake to
let the brutes believe they're frightening us."

Annesley agreed in silence; but in her heart she was glad to lengthen out
the adventure. Soon she would have to creep back to her dull modern
substitute for a moated grange, and after that--not "the deluge"; nothing
so exciting: extinction.