"I know how to dance now," said Bobby.
"You do, hey? Well, you shall dance with me some time. Would you like that?"
"Ra-ther!"
Sophy, however, didn't at all like this unusual, bold-eyed Bobby who was lolling against a stranger's knee as though they had been intimate for years, and "giving her as good as she sent." She cast a meaning glance at young Grey, who had just finished his cup of tea. He rose obediently, though he felt the deepest sympathy with Bobby.
"Time for your boxing lesson, Bobby," he said.
Bobby pressed closer to Belinda. He looked at his mother.
"Couldn't I stay a little longer, mother?" he pleaded. "'Cause Cousin Belinda's just come?"
Sophy didn't want to appear a prig. She glanced again at Harold Grey.
"You must ask Mr. Grey," she said.
"Mr. Grey" was between two fires. He said somewhat lamely: