Horry took Barbara apart. "I say, have you seen my guv'nor?"
"No. What? Where?"
She could see by his face that he was drawing her into some iniquitous, secret by-path of diversion.
"There, just behind you. Turn round—this way—but don't look as if you'd spotted him…. Did you ever see anything like him? He's like a Newfoundland dog trying to look over a gate. It wouldn't be half so funny if he wasn't so dignified all the time."
She didn't approve of Horry. He wasn't decent. But the dignity—it was wonderful.
Horry went on. "What on earth did the mater ask that woman for? She might have known he'd make a fool of himself."
"Oh, Horry, you mustn't. It's awful of you. You really are a little beast."
"I'm not. Fancy doing it at his own garden party. He never thinks of us. Look at the dear little mater, there, pretending she doesn't see him. That's what makes me mad, Barbara."
"Well, you ought to pretend you don't see it, too."
"I've been pretending the whole blessed afternoon. But it's no good pretending with you. You jolly well see everything."