"I don't care what it is," yelled H.M. "Whatever it is, this old trout's not goin' to get it"
"This, is malice," said Lady Brayle. "This is insufferable. This is pure childishness. I will end it." Her voice rose in calm triumph. "One — hundred — pounds."
"Oh, Sophie!" grunted H.M. in a distressed tone. "You're playin' for monkey-nuts. Let's make it really interesting. — Two hundred pounds!"
"Gentlemen," observed a voice in the crowd, "here we go again."
"Two hundred and ten? Two hundred and ten?"
But Lady Brayle, a very shrewd woman, clamped her jaws. Undoubtedly she knew that the old sinner in front of her, whose cussedness was without depth or measure, would cheerfully have gone to a thousand. Catching the auctioneer's eye, she shook her head. Then she adjusted the rakish fashionable hat on her grey-white hair.
"Jennifer!" she called.
But Jenny did not reply, nor was she in sight
"You will meet me," her grandmother spoke carefully to the air, "at Claridge's for lunch. One o'clock." Then she turned for a final remark to H.M.
"I must tell you something else," she continued. Martin