Aunt Bella said "Pfoo-oof!" and waved her hands as if she were clearing the air.
"All I can say is," Mamma said, "that if Lavvy Olivier brings her
Opinions into this house Emilius and I will walk out of it."
To-morrow—they were coming to-morrow, Uncle Victor and Aunt Lavvy and
Aunt Charlotte.
II.
They were coming to lunch, and everybody was excited.
Mark and Dank were in their trousers and Eton jackets, and Roddy in his new black velvet suit. The drawing-room was dressed out in its green summer chintzes that shone and crackled with glaze. Mamma had moved the big Chinese bowl from the cabinet to the round mahogany table and filled it with white roses. You could see them again in the polish; blurred white faces swimming on the dark, wine-coloured pool. You held out your face to be washed in the clear, cool scent of the white roses.
When Mark opened the door a smell of roast chicken came up the kitchen stairs.
It was like Sunday, except that you were excited.
"Look at Papa," Roddy whispered. "Papa's excited."
Papa had come home early from the office. He stood by the fireplace in the long tight frock-coat that made him look enormous. He had twirled back his moustache to show his rich red mouth. He had put something on his beard that smelt sweet. You noticed for the first time how the frizzed, red-brown mass sprang from a peak of silky golden hair under his pouting lower lip. He was letting himself gently up and down with the tips of his toes, and he was smiling, secretly, as if he had just thought of something that he couldn't tell Mamma. Whenever he looked at Mamma she put her hand up to her hair and patted it.