"Miss Devereux is a good way off from fifty."
"O, I know!" with a shrug of her angular shoulders. "Juvenile bonnets and ribbons can't throw dust in my eyes! You men are so easily taken in."
Madame Collier's glance fell on Jean, with a twinge of vexation at having said so much, and of consequent displeasure at Jean's presence.
"What are you doing there, Jean? Wasting your time!"
"I'm waiting for Oswald."
"Where is Oswald?" demanded Mr. Trevelyan.
"I don't know, father."
"Then why wait?" Mr. Trevelyan's manner was not stern; it was only repressed and repressing. His eyes surveyed her gravely. He might be a most affectionate father—anybody may be anything below the surface!—but the affection was not allowed to appear.
"He said he would come for a game of bowls—presently." Jean carefully abstained from saying "in five minutes," for that would have meant blame to Oswald.
"Go and find him. Don't dawdle about doing nothing."