"Surely Mr. Fuller is hardly qualified to judge?"
"Probably not. That's why the question is to be laid before the directors," said her husband drily.
Lady Rossiter, tall and beautiful, with the maturity of a woman whom the years had left with auburn hair unfaded and opaque white skin almost unlined, moved restlessly about the room.
Sir Julian, aware instantly that she was anxious to pursue the subject, perversely remained silent behind the newspaper.
"Do you know anything about this woman? Is she a lady?"
"I have not the least idea."
"Is she from the West Country?"
"She writes from London."
"Ah, our Devonians won't take to her if she's a Cockney. I should prefer some one de nous autres, Julian."
"So she may be, for all we know."