"I say, do you feel a draught?" inquired the host, anxiously.
"Oh no, it's delicious here."
A voice from the quad was shouting "Tony," and Dorothy, remembering Anthony from Debrett, could not resist telling Clarehaven that he was being called. Clarehaven was moving over to the window to discourage whoever was demanding his presence, when another voice came clearly up through the June air.
"Shut up, Ridgway! Tony's lunching some does, you silly ass!"
Dorothy could not help thinking that Sylvia ought to have pretended not to hear this allusion instead of bursting out into what was really a vulgar peal of laughter.
"I think there is a draught," said Mr. Tufton, closing the windows so gravely that one felt much of his inmost meditation was devoted to the tactful handling of moments like this.
"Are these your sisters?" Dorothy asked, picking up a photograph of two girls, each holding a foxhound.
"Yes, those are my sisters Bella and Connie," Clarehaven replied. "They're awful keen on puppy-walking."
Perhaps, after all, abbreviations were sometimes tolerable, and names like Arabella and Constantia were rather long.
"Isn't your second name Gilbert?" she asked.