“Trunk call,” she said.
He glued himself to the instrument, and soon there came a voice he knew.
“No! Is it you?” he asked. “What is it?”
“I’m motoring down to-morrow morning,” said Olga, “and Princess Isabel is probably coming with me, though she is not absolutely certain. But expect her, unless I telephone to-morrow. Be a darling and give us lunch, as we shall be late, and come and dine. Terrible hurry: good-bye.”
“No, you must wait a minute,” screamed Georgie. “Of course I’ll do that, but I must tell you, Lucia’s just come with a party from London and hasn’t asked any of us.”
“No!” said Olga. “Then don’t tell her I’m coming. She’s become such a bore. She asks me to lunch and dinner every day. How thrilling though, Georgie! Whom has she got?”
Suddenly the name of the weird bright female came back to Georgie.
“Mrs. Alingsby,” he said.
“Lor!” said Olga. “Who else?”
“Mrs. Garroby-Ashton——”