“Every hotel in the country,” he boasted proudly.
“I don’t quite mean in that sense. Who are the authorities? For instance, if I had a friend buried in the cemetery here, to whom should I apply for identification of the grave?”
The General screwed up his features into a judicial frown. “Well—er—I should go to the communal office in the village, if I were you,” said he.
Braving his mother’s possible displeasure, George de Courcy Vavasour asserted his manliness for Beryl’s benefit.
“I know the right Johnny,” he said. “Let me take you to him, Miss Jaques—Eh, what?”
Millicent affected to consider the proposal. She saw that Mrs. Vavasour was content. “It is very kind of you,” she said, with her most charming smile. “Have we time to go there before lunch?”
“Oh, loads.”
“I am walking toward the village. May I come with you?” asked Beryl Wragg.
“That will be too delightful,” said Millicent.