"He stimied me on the ninth."
Jasmine looked up apprehensively on an impulse to warn Lettice of her mother's presence before she gave herself away any more; but at that moment Lettice saw them and exclaimed rather crossly:
"Hullo, mother! Are you here?"
"Yes, dear, I have paid our long-promised visit. Did you have a good game?"
Lettice made a gesture of indifference, and there was a short pause. "I suppose you'll be going home for lunch?" she enquired.
"No, I've ordered lunch for Jasmine and myself here. But don't let that disturb you, dear. We shall amuse each other if you and Pamela are already engaged. We shall understand, shan't we, Jasmine?"
"As a matter of fact," said Lettice, "we are lunching with Harry Vibart and Claude Whittaker. We've a foursome on afterwards."
"Delightful," said her mother genially. "Don't you bother about us. I don't think I've looked at this week's Country Life yet; have you finished with it?" she asked Jasmine, who, having for some time been listlessly turning over the pages had suddenly found Country Life to be of such absorbing interest that she had buried her face in its faint oily smell. Lady Grant never really enjoyed looking at a paper unless she had taken it away from somebody else, and when her niece surrendered it she smiled at her.
"My dear Jasmine, how pale you are!" she exclaimed, and bade her ring the bell for a glass of water.
Jasmine, with a reproach for her treacherous Southern heart, tried to appear composed.