“There's a photograph too,” said Stella.
Miss Matthews snatched the paper from her. “She leaves the house today, month or no month!” she declared. “The impertinence of it! Personal loss! What's more it's a lie, because every servant we ever had hated Gregory! She'd never have dared to do this if she hadn't been under notice!”
Beecher came into the room at this moment, and was promptly glared at by his incensed mistress. “Do you know anything about this disgraceful affair?” demanded Miss Matthews, striking the paper with her hand.
Beecher coughed. “Yes, miss. Very reprehensible indeed. Mrs Beecher has been giving Rose a piece of her mind. Mr Randall is on the phone, miss.”
“What does he want?” growled Guy.
“He did not say, sir.”
“Well, I'm not going to answer it,” said Guy, sitting down at the table. “Tell him we're out.”
“You go, Stella,” said her aunt. “Though what he can want I'm sure I don't know.”
Stella sighed, and put down the paper. “Why it should have to be me I fail to understand,” she remarked, but she went out into the hall and picked up the receiver. “Hullo?” she said in a discouraging voice. “Stella speaking. What is it?”
Randall's dulcet voice answered her. “Good-morning, my sweet. Tell me at once—I am quite breathless with excitement—why have I never been privileged to set eyes on pretty, blue-eyed Rose Daventry?”