Every one had some contribution to make on this subject, from Camilla, who begged Sir Arthur not to wish for rain till Monday, to Stephen Guest, who observed that the country needed it.
Geoffrey slipped guiltily into the room in the middle of this discussion, but if he hoped to make his tardy entrance unnoticed he was disappointed. His father stood facing the door, and said in a bluff voice, through which lay an unmistakably threatening undercurrent: "A trifle late, my boy, aren't you? We were ready to receive our guests in my young days."
Geoffrey coloured angrily. It was just like Father to treat him as though he were a schoolboy in front of a roomful of people. He mumbled: "Sorry!" and walked over to the cocktail tray.
Sir Arthur said sharply: "Good God, sir, where have you left your manners? Say how do you do to Mrs. Twining!"
Geoffrey grew redder than ever. "I didn't see you, Aunt Julia. How do you do?"
Mrs. Twining patted a chair beside her. "Come and sit down, Geoffrey. It seems a long time since I saw you. I hear you are engaged to be married?" Something between a snort and a scornful laugh from the General made her turn her well-coiffed head. "I beg your pardon, Arthur?" she said smoothly.
"Time enough to talk of being married when he's done cutting his second teeth," said the General, moving away towards Camilla.
"The Reverend and Mrs. Chudleigh," announced Finch from the doorway.
The Vicar and his wife came in.
The Rev. Hilary Chudleigh was a man of late middle age, with a gentle austere countenance, and a permanent stoop to his shoulders. He had been vicar of the parish for only four years. The best years of his life had been spent working in the worst slums imaginable, and it was only when his health at last cracked that he consented to accept a living in the country. He was not really fitted to be a country vicar, for he disapproved of fox-hunting and pheasant-shooting, and was not at all fond of social intercourse. The General said that he was a namby-pamby fellow with a bee in his bonnet. The Vicar said, sadly but with conviction, that the General was living in sin. If it had not been for the arguments of his wife, and the advice of his very tactful bishop, Mr. Chudleigh would never have set foot inside the General's house. He did not recognise divorce. This, not unnaturally, was apt to produce a somewhat strained atmosphere on the rare occasions when, in duty bound, he visited the Grange. He had tried once to bring Sir Arthur to a realisation of his error. The result had not been happy, and it had taken six months to heal the breach. Left to himself, the Vicar would never again have approached Sir Arthur, but he was not left to himself. His bishop came to lunch one day, and was more tactful and persuasive than ever. The Rev. Hilary, who was growing old and rather tired, saw that the situation was too difficult for him to cope with. The bishop apparently recognised divorce and remarriage, and the bishop pointed out that Sir Arthur was not only one of the more influential landowners in the district, but a churchwarden as well. It seemed one could not ostracise rich men who occupied front pews every Sunday, contributed to the church restoration funds, and took leading parts in parochial meetings.