Vicky, meanwhile, had led Alan into a leatherupholstered room leading out of the hall. It smelled of stale smoke, and was such a gloomy apartment that it was not surprising that no one ever sat in it. The discovery that the few weary flowers in a vase on the mantelpiece were made of paper pleased Vicky so much that she seemed to be in danger of forgetting the serious nature of Alan's business. He recalled her to it by saying in a sepulchral tone that he knew why Wally Carter had visited his father on Sunday.
This at once claimed Vicky's attention. "Alan, do you really? Tell me instantly!"
Alan, however, did not mean to be baulked of his dramatic effects. He said: "God knows what I've done to deserve such a father! If it weren't for Janet, of course, I'd sooner starve than live under his roof. I mean, when one has ideals '
"I know about them," interrupted Vicky. "Go on about your father!"
"I only heard of it in the most roundabout way," said Alan. "Though, I need hardly say I had my suspicions, and as a matter of fact I told Father that nothing would induce me to meet Samuel Jones. I'm afraid I let him have it from the shoulder, which shocked Janet, but you know how I feel about that kind of worn-out shibboleth, Vicky. Why one should be expected to respect a man simply because he happens to be one's father-'
"Oh, Alan, do get on!" begged Vicky. "Wally and your father had got a deal on, hadn't they?"
"Of course, if you already know about it."
"No, I don't, but Mary guessed it. And if you don't stop reciting this voluminous prologue, and tell me what you've discovered, I shall go into a screaming fit! Do be more congruous, Alan darling!"
"Well, you've heard about the new building scheme, haven't you?" said Alan, rather sulkily.
"Here, in Fritton? Yes, they're going to build a sort of ghastly garden-city all over Valley Reach, or something."