Mr. Bolton subsided.
"We're so excited, dear Miss Brent," simpered Miss Sikkum. "You'll be Lady Bowen——"
"Lady Peter Bowen," corrected Mrs. Craske-Morton with superior knowledge.
"Lady Peter," gushed Miss Sikkum. "Oh how romantic, and I shall see your portrait in The Mirror. Oh! Miss Brent, aren't you happy?"
Patricia smiled across at Miss Sikkum, whose enthusiasm was too genuine to cause offence.
"And you'll have cars and all sorts of things," remarked Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, thinking of he solitary blue evening frock, "he's very rich."
"Worth ten thousand a year," almost shouted Mr. Cordal, striving to regain control over a piece of lettuce-leaf that fluttered from his lips, and having eventually to use his fingers.
"You'll forget all about us," said Miss Pilkington, who in her capacity as a post-office supervisor daily showed her contempt for the public whose servant she was.
"If you're nice to her," said Mr. Bolton, "she may buy her stamps at your place."
Again Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr. Bolton!" eased the situation.