“Ah!”
“I shall ask my mother to send you a card for—but I suppose you are like the rest of us: you need at least a month’s notice?”
“I only need a day’s notice, Miss Severn.”
“You shall have a week at the least.”
“And you can get up your affidavits in the meantime,” suggested Mr. Overton.
“I think I shall convince Sir Creighton of my identity without the adventitious aid of affidavits,” said Winwood.
“My solicitor—an excellent chap, and so cheap!—says that it is only people who know nothing about the law courts who say that there is no other form of perjury except an affidavit. He once knew a man who made an affidavit that turned out to be true, though no one believed it at the time.”
It was at this point that Mr. Shirley came up and took away Winwood to present him to Miss West, explaining that he had arranged his table so that he was to sit next to Miss West.
“I hope that he is putting me beside you,” said Mr. Overton with a look of longing that is not strictly according to Plato. He now and again made these lapses. They were very irritating to Amber (she thought).
But his hope in regard to the regulation of the table was not destined to be realised for Mr. Shirley brought up to her a young man who was the son of a marquis and a member of the Cabinet as well—Mr. Shirley knew how to choose his guests and how to place them so well.