"Half-past," said Sir Charles.
"Oh! Half-past."
G.J., somewhat surprised to learn of his expertise in accountancy, consented to the suggestion, which renewed his resolution, impaired somewhat by the experience of the meeting, to be of service in the world.
"You will receive the notice, of course," said the chairman.
Down below, just as G.J. was getting away with Christine's chrysanthemums in their tissue paper, Lady Queenie darted out of the lift opposite. It was she who, at Concepcion's instigation, had had him put in the committee.
"I say, Queen," he said with a casual air—on account of the flowers, "who's been telling 'em I know about accounts?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"Why?" she said maliciously. "Don't you keep an account of every penny you spend?" (It was true.)
Here was a fair example of her sardonic and unscrupulous humour—a humour not of words but of acts. G.J. simply tossed his head, aware of the futility of expostulation.