“Why, yours, of course.”
“What nonsense! They’re very nice about it, aren’t they? Do you think we ought to call?”
“Shall you feel it awkward?”
“Yes, a little. Shan’t you? Still we must let them know we’re here. Will you write to Mrs. Ashforth?”
“I suppose I’d better. After lunch ‘ll do, won’t it?”
“Oh, yes. And I’ll write a note to him. I expect they won’t be staying here long.”
“I hope not. Hullo, it’s a quarter past twelve. We must be getting back. Laing’s coming to lunch.”
“Where arc the Deanes?”
“Lady Deane’s gone to Belleville with your father to see slums, and Roger’s playing tennis with Laing. He said we weren’t to wait lunch. Are you hungry, Dolly?”
“Not very. It seems only an hour since breakfast.”