'It's all right, my child,' said her uncle, kindly. 'We naturally expect now that you'll begin to think like Geoffrey Stonor, and to feel like Geoffrey Stonor, and to talk like Geoffrey Stonor. And quite proper, too!'
'Well,'—Jean quickly recovered her smiles—'if I do think with my husband, and feel with him—as of course I shall—it will surprise me if I ever find myself talking a tenth as well!' In her enthusiasm she followed her uncle to the French window. 'You should have heard him at Dutfield.' She stopped short. 'The Freddy Tunbridges!' she exclaimed, looking out into the garden. A moment later her gay look fell. 'What? Not Aunt Lydia! Oh-h!' She glanced back reproachfully at Lady John, to find her making a discreet motion of 'I couldn't help it!' as the party from the garden came in.
The greetings of the Freddys were cut short by Mrs. Heriot, who embraced her niece with a significant warmth.
'I wasn't surprised,' she said sotto voce. 'I always prophesied——'
'Sh—Please——' the girl escaped.
'We haven't met since you were in short skirts,' said the young man who had been watching his opportunity. 'I'm Dick Farnborough.'
'Oh, I remember.' Jean gave him her hand.
Mrs. Freddy was looking round and asking where was the Elusive One?
'Who is the Elusive One?' Jean demanded.
'Lady John's new ally in good works!' said Mrs. Freddy. 'Why, you met her one day at my house before you went back to Scotland.'