"When you see my composure ruffled," she would say comfortably, "then will be the time to criticize."
This imposing lady, a faint smile on her face and an auction-catalogue in her hand, stood before the two culprits and waited with endless patience for someone to speak.
Jenny, pushing back her yellow hair, blurted it out
"C–Captain Drake," she said, "may I present you to my grandmother? Captain Drake, Lady Brayle."
The latter's nod and glance flickered over Martin as though he had not been there at all.
The auction," she said to Jenny, "has begun. Lot 72 should come up in a few minutes. I feel sure, Jennifer, that you will wish to be present? Follow me, please."
She swung round, her somewhat ample posterior conspicuous in the flowered dress, and moved majestically away. Jenny, on the other side of the long centre table, followed her almost parallel. Martin, with a raging heart, could only follow Jenny. At the far end of the table, however. Lady Brayle wheeled round with her back to the open arch into the main auction-hall. She glanced at the weapons on the table.
"Ah — Jennifer dear," she continued with a sort of cold archness. "It occurs to me we must not forget our fiancé Now must we?'
Jenny made an incoherent noise.
"Richard, or dear Ricky as we call him.." Lady Brayle paused. "Captain Drake. Let me see. You were in the Guards?"