And George Tarlyon came in. Ivor stopped in his stride. Virginia turned her face to the door.
“Hallo!” Tarlyon said, so airily! And he came towards them.
“Better, my dear?” Tarlyon asked, taking Virginia’s hand; and to Ivor: “Septic weather, Marlay....”
Ivor somehow agreed that it was.
“Will you have tea, George?” Virginia asked, “or does this septic weather call for a brandy-and-soda?”
“It calls, Virginia. With a lump of ice in it, too.”
Virginia pressed a bell. And she asked him:—
“Are you doing anything this evening?”
Tarlyon laughed, as though she had made a joke.
“Nothing that I couldn’t do just as well some other eveni——”