"But you'll let us know—?"
"If we open within motoring distance of Town—rather!"
Tankerville, edging his plump little body forward on his chair, manœuvred his round and sun-scorched face in vain attempts to catch his wife's eye past the intervening candelabrum. Helena, however, divined his desire.
"Coffee in the card-room, George?"
"Please!" Tankerville bleated plaintively.
There was a concerted movement from the table.
Venetia lingered with Matthias.
"It's auction, tonight. Shall you play?"
"'Fraid I'll have to. So will you. Helena—you know—"
"Of course. We must. Only"—she sighed, petulant—"I'd rather not. I'd rather talk to you."