"Surely we are taking this a little too seriously?" suggested Mrs. Twining. "I for one am not led to suppose that Miss de Silva's affections are of a very permanent mature. I wish you would tell me, Fay, what you do to your roses to make them so much more perfect than i nine."
"It isn't me," Fay answered, sitting down beside her. "Arthur looks after the garden, you know. He is very keen on it."
"Ah, yes, of course," said Mrs. Twining, watching Camilla stroll out on to the terrace. "My dear, will you allow a very old friend of your husband to suggest that if you can induce him to take this affair calmly it might be a very excellent thing?"
"I know," Fay said unhappily. "I — I will try, only — it isn't always easy — when Arthur's annoyed — to — to manage him, you know." She flushed a little, and turned with relief as Dinah came in through the French window. "Oh, darling, there you are! Did you manage to make her understand at all?"
"It isn't possible," said Dinah despairingly. "We shall have to make up our minds to it. She's going to be the life and soul of the party."
"Oh, dear, how awful! What on earth shall I do?" demanded Fay helplessly.
"You can't do anything. I warned her there'd be bridge, but she says it will be better if we dance to the radio." She paused, and delivered her final bombshell. "And she thinks Francis looks as though he could tango, and she is going to do an exhibition tango with him for us all to watch. And I should think," concluded Miss Fawcett thoughtfully, "that it'll be pretty lush, what's more."
Chapter Four
Miss Fawcett, awaking betimes on Monday morning, flirted for a while with the idea of staying in bed to breakfast. Her better self won, however, and she got up in time to breakfast at half past right, thus deliberately courting a tete-d-tete with the General, ever an early riser.
This act of heroism was induced by the events of the week-end. Someone, Miss Fawcett thought gloomily, must try to smooth the General down before he actually flung his son out of the house.