You may lose a limousine, but you
can afford to risk that as long as you are not in it--eh, little
long-lost sister?"
"My dear brother!" Liane cried, deeply moved. She leaned forward and
caressed Lanyard's hand with sisterly warmth, in her admiration and
gratification loosing upon him the full candle-power of the violet eyes
in their most disastrous smile. "What a head to have in the family!"
"Take care!" Lanyard admonished. "I admit it's not half bad at times,
but if this battered old headpiece of mine is to be of any further
service to us, Liane, you must be careful not to turn it!"
XIX
SIX BOTTLES OF CHAMPAGNE
Once decided upon a course of action, Liane Delorme demonstrated that
she could move with energy and decision uncommon in her kind. Under her
masterly supervision, preparations accomplished themselves, as it were,
by magic.
It was, for example, nearer three than four o'clock when the expedition
for Cherbourg left the door of her town-house and Paris by way of the
Porte de Neuilly; the limousine leading with that polished pattern of a
chauffeur, Jules, at its wheel, as spick and span, firm of jaw and
imperturbable of eye as when Lanyard had first noticed him in Nant; the
touring car trailing, with the footman Leon as driver, and not at all
happy to find himself drafted in that capacity, if one might judge by a
sullen sort of uneasiness in his look.
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