Antonia said kindly: “Dawn Wind, but it isn't finished yet. My brother's new picture.”
Hannasyde went up to look more closely at it. “Your brother told me today that his hands are worth more than all your half-brother's money,” he remarked.
“Yes, he does think a lot of himself,” agreed Antonia. “You'll have to get used to that sort of swank if you mean to see much of him.”
“Well, I was thinking that he's probably right,” said Hannasyde. “I don't pretend to know much about art, but -”
“Don't say that!” besought Antonia. “Every well meaning idiot says it. What on earth are you standing there for, Murgatroyd?”
“You may be glad of me staying,” said Murgatroyd grimly.
“Well, I shan't. Not after the way you shoved your finger into Kenneth's pie with all that rot about him being in bed at midnight.”
“What I've said I stand by,” replied Murgatroyd.
“What's the use of standing by it when nobody believes you?” said Antonia reasonably. “Anyway, don't stand there, because it puts me off.”
“Well, you know where I am if you want me,” Murgatroyd replied, and withdrew.