“Here's Mr Giles!” she announced grimly.
Giles Carrington paused on the threshold, surveying the group in some amusement. “You look like an illustration of high life and low life,” he remarked. “Sunbathing, Tony?”
“Come inside, and pour yourself out a drink,” said Kenneth. “And don't be shy of telling us the worst: it's all in the family. Am I the heir, or am I not? If I am, we're going to buy a refrigerator. There's no ice in this ruddy place.”
Giles paid not the slightest attention to this, but smiled down at Violet. “It's useless to expect either of my cousins to introduce us. My name is Carrington.”
“I know; they're hopeless. Mine is Williams. I'm Kenneth's fiancée, you know.”
“I didn't, but I congratulate him. Good-evening, Mesurier.”
“Oh, how sweet of you!” Violet said, with an arch look up at him.
“That's only his nice Eton manners,” said Antonia reassuringly. “When's the Inquest, Giles?”
“On Tuesday. You'll have to attend.”
“Blast! Are you going to be there?”