“I like that! When he got such an extremely good bargain, too! He always did in his deals with me.”
“Anna has a Black Beauty, you might wangle it out of her by offering to teach her carpentry or something ... something she could get a new badge for in the Girl Guides.”
“But it’s my own copy that I want.”
And so on, what time Dick at the foot of the table shook like a jelly with delighted laughter.
Nothing makes parents—even detached ones like Dick—so happy as to see their grown-up offspring behaving like children.
“English hospitality is to make you at home—a pistol at your head; look at the poor Scot!” said Guy to Teresa.
She had been trying to hear what Rory was saying to Concha about the latest Revue, and, looking absently across at the silent, aloof David, said vaguely, “Oh, yes of course; he’s Scotch, isn’t he?”
“Inverness-shire, I should think. They’ve got a special accent there—not Scotch, but a sort of genteel English. It’s rather frightening, like suddenly coming upon a pure white tribe in the heart of Darkest Africa, it....”
Teresa heard no more, but yielded to the curious intoxication produced by half a glass of claret, the din of voices, and the hot and brightly lighted room.