Mary was amused. "Poor Alan! Was he fed up?"
"Yes, but I do feel that he ought to be rather crushed by adversity," said Vicky seriously. "I mean, major poets have to be, don't they? And it turned out that I'd done the proper thing, anyway, because you were quite right about that man."
"What man?"
"Oh, Percy! The one who wrote Wally the funny letter."
"What you found funny in it I fail to see. What are you talking about, anyway? How was I right?"
"About his calling here, darling, of course. I mean, he did."
"Vicky! Good Lord, when?"
"Oh, about half an hour ago! Apparently he doesn't live at Fritton at all, but at Burntside, and so poor darling Ermyntrude was a frightful blow to him."
"Do you mean to say he didn't know Uncle was married?"
"No, because Gladys didn't tell him that. He said it wasn't a thing he could mention to me, which I must say I thought was rather dear and old-world of him, and made me wish I'd gone all Early Victorian instead of River Girl. However, it didn't really matter, because by the time he'd absorbed Ermyntrude's rich-looking decor, he got rather fierce about plutocrats, and the Red Flag, and things, and I rather lost interest, because I've heard all about the lovely time everyone will have when we're all Communists from Alan; and though I do utterly agree that it's practically incumbent on one to go Red, I don't somehow think that I shall, because I don't feel as though I should enjoy it much."