"Her name," replied Fay, "is Lola de Silva. It sounds awfully improbable, doesn't it? It — it put Arthur off right away. I've had rather a dreadful time with him, because Geoffrey wrote to me, not to his father, and — and asked me to break the news. I'm afraid Geoffrey's quite infatuated. He seems to think Arthur has only to see this Lola person and he'll fall for her."
"The joys of being a stepmother," commented Dinah. "Is that what Arthur meant when he said that you'd packed the house full of people?"
"Partly, I expect. But he's blaming me for having the Hallidays now, just because he'd rather they weren't here when Geoffrey comes."
"And who," asked Dinah, "are the Hallidays? Kindly enumerate."
"People we met in the south of France," replied Fay, a little guardedly. "He was knocked up in the War, and she's — she's rather pretty, and smart." She raised her eyes to her sister's face and coloured faintly. "Well, you're bound to see it. Arthur flirts with her. That's why they're here."
"More fool you to invite them," said Dinah sternly. "You don't understand. Arthur made me." Dinah snorted.
"It's no good, Dinah. You're the fighting sort, and I'm not. Anyway, it doesn't matter. He doesn't mean anything serious, and if it keeps him in a good temper I don't mind."
"Anyone else here?" asked Dinah, abandoning a hopeless topic.
"Yes, Francis. He arrived in time for lunch."
Dinah grimaced. "If I'd known he was going to be here, I wouldn't have come. What's he turned up for? To touch dear Uncle Arthur? That'll make it a very merry party. Anyone else?"