“I think perhaps you did,” he said gently.
She seemed unconvinced, and he did not press the point. The waiter came in to clear away the covers, and hardly had he left the parlour than Major Daubenay’s card was brought to Sir Richard.
Pen, changing colour, exclaimed: “Oh dear, now I wish I weren’t here! I suppose I can’t escape now, can I?”
“Hardly. You would undoubtedly walk straight into the Major’s arms. But I won’t let him beat you.”
“Well, I hope you won’t!” said Pen fervently. “Tell me quickly, how does a person look depraved? Do I look depraved?”
“Not in the least. The best you can hope for is to look sulky.”
She retired to a chair in the corner, and sprawled in it, trying to scowl. “Like this?”
“Excellent!” approved Sir Richard.
A minute later, Major Daubenay was ushered into the parlour. He was a harassed-looking man, with a high colour, and upon finding himself confronted by the tall, immaculate figure of a Corinthian, he exclaimed: “Good Gad! You are Sir Richard Wyndham!”
Pen, glowering in the corner, could only admire the perfection of Sir Richard’s bow. The Major’s slightly protuberant eyes discovered her. “And this is the young dog who has been trifling with my daughter!”