“On the contrary,” he answered, “I have scarcely scratched the surface!”
Stephen Hurd looked uneasily from Deyes to his hostess. Never altogether comfortable, although eager to accept the most casually offered invitation to Thorpe, he had always the idea that the most commonplace remark contained an innuendo purposely concealed from him.
“Mr. Deyes,” he remarked, “looks mysterious.”
Deyes glanced at him through his eyeglass.
“It is a subtle neighbourhood,” he said. “By the bye, Mr. Hurd, have you ever seen the rose gardens at Carrow?”
“Never,” Hurd replied enviously. “I have heard that they are very beautiful.”
Wilhelmina passed out.
“The gardens are beautiful,” she said, looking back, “but the roses are like all other roses, they fade quickly. Till five o’clock, all of you!”