“Oh, is that why he went to Woodhall?” asked Gavin, interested.
“And if I left Mr. Warrenby out,” pursued Mrs. Haswell, apparently deaf to this interruption, “I should be obliged to leave Mavis out too, which I should be sorry to do.”
“I wish you had left him out.”
“She leads a wretched enough life without being ostracised,” said Mrs. Haswell, still deaf. “And you never hear her say an unkind word about him.”
“I never hear her say an unkind word about anyone. There is no affinity between us.”
“I wonder what is keeping the Ainstables?”
“Possibly the fear that nothing has kept Warrenby.”
“I'm sure I said half-past three. I hope Rosamund hasn't had another of her bad turns. There, now! the young people have finished their set, and the others have only just begun theirs; I wanted to arrange it so that Mr. Drybeck should play with the good ones! . . . Well, how did it end, my dears? Who won?”
“Oh, the children!” said Kenelm Lindale, with the flash of a rueful smile. “Delia and I were run off our feet!”
“You are a liar!” remarked Abigail Dearham, propping her racquet against a chair, and picking up a scarlet cardigan. “We should be still at it, if it hadn't been for Charles's almighty fluke.”