"Always," responded Beulah obediently.
"Oh, Mummy, what lies you do tell!" said Cynthia, hunching a pettish shoulder.
"That reminds me," said Seaton-Carew, with what even Mr. Harte acknowledged to be praiseworthy swiftness, "I've been cursing the telephone all day myself. Been expecting an important call, which hasn't come through. I've told the Exchange to put any calls for me through to this number, Lilias. I knew you wouldn't mind."
In this he was mistaken. Mrs. Haddington might be grateful to him for trying to cover up her daughter's lapse, but she could scarcely be expected to contemplate with pleasure the prospect of seeing the smooth running of her Bridge-party disturbed by the interruption of a telephone-call. Her response, though civil, was so lacking in cordiality that even Lord Guisborough became conscious of an atmosphere of constraint. However, Timothy was inspired to ask Cynthia if she had seen the latest gangster-film, showing at the Orpheum, a gambit which dispelled her ill-humour, and induced her to launch forth into an animated and enthusiastic discussion on this and several other films of the same order. The rest of dinner passed without untoward incident. Mrs. Haddington rose from the table, playfully apologising for not being able to allow her male guests more than ten minutes with the port, and inviting them to join her in her boudoir for coffee. She then led the way out of the room, and while Cynthia went up to her bedroom to put more powder on her face and to exaggerate the already beautiful curve of her upper lip, she reminded Beulah what her various duties would be during the rest of the evening. Obedient to her command, Seaton-Carew brought his fellow-guests up to the boudoir in good time; and Thrimby, leaving a couple of flurried subordinates to clear away the remains of dinner and transform the dining-room into a refreshment buffet, followed him with the coffee-tray, which he majestically offered to everyone in turn. Cynthia reappeared just as he was leaving the room, and nearly caused Seaton-Carew to spill his coffee by seizing his free hand and saying: "Oh, Dan darling, I've something frightfully important I want to tell you! Do come up to the drawing-room!"
"Not now, my pet," said Mrs. Haddington firmly. "You can talk to Dan some other time."
"But, Mummy, you don't understand! I particularly want to say something to him now.!"
"Darling, you're forgetting! You must stay and entertain Lance, and Mr. Harte. Besides, I want to have a word with Dan myself."
"We'll go into a huddle together later on, Cynny," said Seaton-Carew soothingly.
Cynthia pouted, and protested, but before her voice had developed more than a hint of a whining note her harassed parent had inexorably swept Mr. Seaton-Carew off to the library, to discuss with him, she said, certain minor details of the approaching contest.
"I do think people are sickening," Cynthia remarked. "Where's my coffee? Oh, thanks, Timothy, you are an angel! Did you pour it out for me?"