“Looks as if he was wigging him for being late,” said Bob.
“Yes, doesn’t he? He’s his uncle—old beast—look! he’s quite purple in the face.”
“Look!” said Bob.
The drawing-room door had opened, disclosing Lady Seagrave on the arm of Uncle Molyneux.
“There you are, you two,” said her ladyship; “I had quite determined to dine without you. General, give your arm to Lady Molyneux. What have you two been talking so earnestly about?”
“Roses,” replied Dicky, with a side glance at Violet Lestrange, who was passing him, on the arm of Mr Boxall.
“I’m glad they’ve done jawing,” said Lord Gawdor, when the last of the guests had vanished into the dining-room; “it’ll be an hour now before the sweets are brought up.”
“Bob,” said Doris, “I believe she’s in love with him.”
“Who?”
“Miss Lestrange with Mr Fanshawe.”