"How dare you! You won't grow any more! Here, have a chocolate!"
Savile looked at her with a pitying smile and said slowly—
"What rot! Grow! As if I wanted to grow! As if I had the time! I've got more serious things than that to do I can tell you. I have two rather awful troubles. Look here. Things are a bit off at home just now. The Governor is furious about Chetwode not coming to the party."
Lady Chetwode's colour deepened.
"Well, what about me, Savile? Do you think I'm pleased? Is it my fault the Cambridgeshire's run on Wednesday? Do be just to me! Do I make the racing engagements? You can't pretend that I can alter the rules of Newmarket because papa chooses to give a lot of absurd parties!"
"I know, old girl—but can't you make him give it up?"
"Who ever yet made Chetwode give up anything he wants to do? Besides, it's not like a dinner-party, or his wedding, or anything like that, Savile, you know. After all, he isn't bound to be there!"
"All right; only it's the first thing we've given since your marriage and——"
"I know, dear. I'm very angry about it. Very. Besides, I'm sure I don't care if the darling prefers racing! Don't you know by this time that whenever Chetwode is particularly wanted he is sure to be either at Kempton or at Christie's?"
"Spending at Christie's what he's lost at Kempton, I suppose."