Alistair shrugged his shoulders with well-assumed carelessness.
“It’s Miss Vanbrugh, the girl who wrote to you, you know.”
“What has she come here for?”
“I suppose it’s a call. She asked if you were at home.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said yes. You hadn’t told me that you didn’t want to receive callers.”
Molly felt herself baffled. She bit her lip, and looked hard at Alistair.
“Our marriage was announced in the paper,” he said, pushing his advantage. “That entitles my friends to call on you, I suppose. In fact, it would be rather marked if they did not.”
“Your mother hasn’t called.”
“No. That is rather marked.”