“But, my dear Barclay—”
“All, it’s all very well, but you came to me to find the money for his outfit.”
“Now, look here, Jo-si-ah,” cried Mrs Barclay, who was a wonder of satin, feathers, and jewellery, “Mr Denville has been kind enough to ask us to his party, and I will not have another word said about bills and money. I’ve come to enjoy myself, and I mean to. There!”
“Bless the woman!” sighed Denville.
“And where’s Miss Claire? Oh, here she is. Oh, my dear, how lovable you look in your plain pearl satin. Oh, I never did! Only oughtn’t you to have a necklace on? I say, take me to your room, and let me lend you mine.”
She placed her plump hand upon a magnificent ruby necklet that she wore, but Claire checked her.
“No, no, no, Mrs Barclay,” she whispered.
“Well, p’raps you’re right, my dear. Nothing wouldn’t make you look better.”
“Let me compliment you too, Miss Denville,” said Barclay in his brusque way; and, after a smile and a few words, he turned back to talk to his host.
“I say, Denville—why, it was in that back room that—why, you’ve made it into a back drawing-room.”