Sir Raymond and Lady Dilling . . . Lady Dilling . . .
She rose abruptly and strode to the door. Pratt avoided a collision with difficulty. He was just coming in.
“No more time for philandering,” he cried, with vulgar geniality. “On to Pretoria! Nelson expects every man to do his duty!”
Mrs. Pratt watched their departure with contradictory sensations. The Hon. Member for Morroway was not the man to spoil a good impression by an inartistic exit. He made a graceful adieu, managing to convey the idea that, although now and again he might be the bearer of news that was disturbing, on the whole he was a man who could be mulct by a woman of astuteness, of the most intimate and useful information.
Augustus Pratt, M.P., arrived home on the stroke of midnight to find his wife and daughter in the midst of a litter of stationery, calling lists, telephone and Blue Books.
“What’s up now?” he demanded, picking his way across the floor as one hops over a brook by means of stepping stones.
“Look at that,” cried his wife, and pointed to the evening paper.
Pratt gave his attention to the item indicated. It headed the Personal column, and read,
“The following ladies and gentlemen had the honour of dining at Government House last evening . . . and Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Dilling.”