After the usual greetings (Brodrick was aware of a growing restraint in this particular) Eddy, at the first opening, made for his point—their point, rather. His uncle had inquired with urbane irony at what hour the family was to be bereaved of their society, and how long it would have to languish——
They were going, Eddy said, at ten in the morning, and a jolly good thing too. They weren't coming back, either, any sooner than they could help. They—well, they couldn't "stick it" at home just now.
They'd had (Winny interpolated) a row with Uncle Henry, a gorgeous row (the colour of it was in Winny's face).
Brodrick showed no sign of surprise, not so much as a raised eyebrow. He asked in quiet tones what it was all about?
Eddy, standing up before his uncle and looking very tall and manly, gazed down his waistcoat at his boots.
"It was about Jin-Jin," Winny said.
(Eddy could almost have sworn that his uncle suffered a slight shock.)
"We can't stick it, you know, the way they're going on about her. The fact is," said the tall youth, "we told Uncle Henry that, and he didn't like it."
"You did, did you?"
"Yes. I know you'll say it isn't our business, but you see——"