Lady Adela's eyebrows rose an eighth of an inch.
"Four, did you say?"
The curate came suddenly to himself.
"I beg your pardon," he said cringingly, "I meant none."
"Then why did you specify four, Mr. Rylands?" enquired Sylvia, who disliked what she called "vague" people.
"Well, the fact is," explained the curate, in a burst of shy confidence--"I always take four when I am alone in my lodgings. But when I go out to tea anywhere, four always seems such a fearful lot to ask for, that--oh, I beg your pardon!"
He had stepped heavily back into a cake-stand, and patisserie strewed the hearthrug.
But both crime and apology passed unnoticed, for at this moment Milroy, who had crossed the hall a minute previously, reappeared at the curtained entrance, and announced, in tones of intense personal satisfaction:--
"Mrs. Carmyle!"
Even the female Mainwarings had no eyes for any one else when Connie Carmyle entered a room.