"What was the name of the shoot the Hendersons had last season?"
"Glenfiddle."
"They paid two hundred, didn't they?"
"Two hundred and twenty," said Andrew.
He was a mine of information on the affairs of his acquaintances, especially on what they paid for things.
"Can you not get enough invitations in the meantime?" asked Mrs. Ramornie.
"Oh, dozens. But we want a little shoot of our own—when we can afford it."
"I only mean to build that new conservatory we've always been talking about," said Mrs. Ramornie; and Andrew pursed his lips and nodded his approval. The pursing was meant as a hint of criticism on their too dashing sister.
It was at that moment that there came the first gentle tap upon the door.
"Come in," said Andrew, and the invalid's nurse entered.