Against this last argument there was no appeal.
Lady Kimbuck patted her affectionately on the shoulder.
"There, run along now," she said. "I daresay you've got a headache or
something that made you say a lot of foolish things you didn't mean. Go
down to the drawing-room. I expect Mr. Bleke is waiting there to say
goodnight to you. I am sure he must be getting quite impatient."
Down in the drawing-room, Roland Bleke was hoping against hope that
Lady Eva's prolonged absence might be due to the fact that she had gone
to bed with a headache, and that he might escape the nightly interview
which he so dreaded.
Reviewing his career, as he sat there, Roland came to the conclusion
that women had the knack of affecting him with a form of temporary
insanity. They temporarily changed his whole nature. They made him feel
for a brief while that he was a dashing young man capable of the
highest flights of love. It was only later that the reaction came and
he realized that he was nothing of the sort.
At heart he was afraid of women, and in the entire list of the women of
whom he had been afraid, he could not find one who had terrified him so
much as Lady Eva Blyton.
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