“Oh, well, I'd better take them now, I suppose,” replied Antonia, and put on her hat again and strolled out.
The flat, which was over a garage, had a small yard attached to it, reached by an iron stair leading out of the kitchen. The garage, which Antonia rented, had a door giving on to the yard, and had been converted into a roomy kennel. Three bull-terrier bitches occupied it, and greeted their mistress in the boisterous manner of their kind. She put them all on leashes, called Bill to heel, and started out for a walk, sped on her way by Murgatroyd, who came to the top of the iron stairs to say that if she happened to be passing a dairy she might bring in another half-dozen eggs. “Ten to one we'll have that Miss Williams here to supper,” Murgatroyd said gloomily. “Enough to make your poor Mother turn in her grave! Her and her poster-sketches! And what's to stop her and Master Kenneth getting married now Mr Arnold's no more?”
“Nothing,” replied Antonia, resisting the efforts of one of the bitches to entangle her legs with the lead.
“That's what I say,” agreed Murgatroyd. “There's always something to take the gilt off the ginger-bread.”
Antonia left her to her cogitations, and set off in the direction of the Embankment. When she returned it was an hour later, and she had forgotten the eggs. Having given her dogs their evening meal, she ran up the steps to the kitchen, where she found Murgatroyd making pastry. A fair girl, with shrewd grey eyes and a rather square chin, was sitting with her elbows on the table, watching Murgatroyd. She smiled when she saw Antonia. “Hullo!” she said. “Just looked in for a minute.”
“I haven't got the eggs,” announced Antonia.
“It's all right: I got them,” the other girl said. “I hear your half-brother's been murdered. I don't condole, do I?”
“No. Is the blushing Violet here?”
“Yes,” said Leslie Rivers in a very steady voice. “So I thought I wouldn't stay.”
“You can't anyway: there isn't enough to eat. Seen Kenneth?”