"Yes, sir. Well, it's been some consolation to my poor sister, I mean to say, after the way her husband behaved hisself, and it's to be hoped Herbert'll take fair warning. Let me see, you will be having lunch at home I think you said?"
John winced: this was precisely what he would have avoided by catching the 9:05 at Waterloo last night.
"I shan't be in to lunch for a few days, Mrs. Worfolk, no—er—nor to dinner either as a matter of fact. No—in fact I'll be down in the country. I must see after things there, you know," he added with an attempt to suggest as jovially as possible a real anxiety about his new house.
"The country, oh yes," repeated Mrs. Worfolk grimly; John saw the beech-woods round Ambles blasted by his housekeeper's disapproval.
"You wouldn't care to—er—come down and give a look round yourself, Mrs. Worfolk? My sister, Mrs. Curtis—"
"Oh, I should prefer not to intrude in any way, sir. But if you insist, why, of course—"
"Oh no, I don't insist," John hurriedly interposed.
"No, sir. Well, we shall all have to get used to being left alone nowadays, and that's all there is to it."
"But I shall be back in a few days, Mrs. Worfolk. I'm a Cockney at heart, you know. Just at first—"
Mrs. Worfolk shook her head and waddled tragically to the door.