He interrupted her, putting up his hand rather like a policeman in the traffic. “I know all about his marriage, my dear friend. I didn’t ask you whom he married. Who is he?”
“Bertha and Percy have known him all their lives—at least all Bertha’s life.”
“Oh yes. Then he’s a friend of Percy Kellynch? But that doesn’t tell me what I want to know. WHO is he?”
With a flash of inspiration she said:
“Oh yes! Oh, he’s a nephew of Lord Wantage. He has no father and mother, I believe. He and his brother Charlie——”
“Ah yes, yes. It comes back to me now—I remember which Hilliers they are. Well, Hillier has asked me to dine with him and go to the Russian Ballet. Rather nice of him. I’m going, and—do you know why I accepted, Madeline?”
“You like the Russian Ballet.”
“I was told that Mrs. Kellynch and you were to be of the party.”
“I’m glad you’re going,” she answered. “Bertha’s so awfully kind——” She stopped suddenly, as if she had made a gaffe.
He smiled. “Really? And what has Bertha’s kindness to do with it?”