“Six guineas, madam,” she was most deferentially informed.
“I collect Lowestoft. A charming piece. It will go so well with my others. Will you kindly send it to 39b, Park Lane?”
“Certainly, Miss Babraham.”
The amazing Miss Babraham opened a vanity bag, took out a sheaf of notes, and chose six which, with the smile of a siren, she handed to William, who received them with one more bow from his full height, and proceeded to write out a receipt.
Somehow this transaction was altogether too much for June. Flashing one long last glance of immeasurable venom upon the stick-eyeglass who, all unconscious of the deadly passions it had aroused, had now returned to elegant and final contemplation of the Hoodoo, the niece of S. Gedge Antiques withdrew hurriedly to the scullery sink, filled a bucket of water, and proceeded with a kind of contained fury to scrub the floor of the larder.
XVIII
When William came in to dinner there was music to face. But as there was no sure ground at the moment for real battle, the music opened pianissimo. It began with a few rather pointed enquiries.
“Had a rather busy morning, haven’t you?”
“I don’t think it has been anything out of the way,” was the non-committal answer.
“Done any business?” The question was casual, but June fixed him with her eye.