"I'll buy a small car now I've Dillon," said Gheena shortly, "one for myself. They are back now; the wetting's over."
"These two men were going to have tea with me," giggled Violet Weston as she came in, "so I brought them along. We were just getting the Professor to play Bridge, so I brought him too."
"The last time I came there were the bees," said the Professor amicably, "and the poor lady so much alarmed."
"Any news?" Darby looked at Stafford.
"The usual deadlock in mud and ice." Stafford pulled out a telegram. "I get weary of wires nowadays. Christmas is so near, and some of us dreamt of them having Christmas at home, and some of Christmas in Berlin, and here we are."
Violet Weston, somewhat flauntily dressed in mauve, with expensive white furs and shoes with diamond buckles, peeped at the wire anxiously.
"Why do you have the things in Greek?" she asked.
"One word does for three, you see," he said smiling, as he dropped the flimsy paper into the fire.
"They are talking now of a great submarine blockade," said Darby, "cutting off all our supplies."
"And they say there are supply bases along this very coast," puffed Dearest George. "Matilda, why is tea late?"