“Pooh,” said Caroline.
All the same Cheriton was roused to action. At noon next day a cab appeared at the door of Caroline’s residence. It contained a milliner and twenty-two hats in twenty-two boxes. The milliner said she had instructions to wait for Lord Cheriton.
The redoubtable Caroline’s first instinct was to order the milliner off the premises.
“Gross impertinence,” she declared.
However, the perverse old woman had a liberal share of reason. Cheriton had his foibles, but emphatically he knew on which side of the bread to look for the butter. In all matters relating to this world, from racehorses to French millinery, wise people respected his judgment.
At five minutes after midday Cheriton himself appeared in the company of an amiable, courteous, and distinguished foreigner.
“What, pray, is the meaning of this invasion?” said Caroline, with a snort of hostility.
“This is Monsieur Duprez,” said Cheriton, “the great genius who comes to London twice a year from Raquin’s at Paris.”
Monsieur Duprez, overwhelmed by this melodious flattery, very nearly touched the Persian carpet with his nose. Caroline scowled at him.
“Cheriton,” said she, “who has given you authority to turn my house into a dressmaker’s shop?”