"That's just what I think. Who is that girl with Margaret? She was just like a snake springing up from the green and wriggling about—said she knew Vincent."
Then Hannah, being somewhat further pacified, told him the history of yesterday's visit.
"Well, I'm jiggered," Mr. Garratt answered, after a moment's hesitation. "I told you there was something behind it all. This brother of his, Lord Eastleigh—of course I'm on to him directly. He was an awful rummy lot—married Bella Barrington, who used to sing at the Cosmopolitan in the Hornsey Road. A pretty low lot, I can tell you. Well, I am—"
"Mr. Garratt," said Hannah horrified, "they are a set of people we should have nothing to do with."
"Rubbish. Margaret will be a toff."
"There's no money with it."
"Well, that's a pity," he said, "but it won't take the title away from them. I always knew they were somebodies."
"Hannah," said Towsey, coming from the kitchen, for it was only to Margaret that she gave a respectful prefix, "I'm ready for you to mix the salad."
"You'd better go," said Mr. Garratt, "I've got no end of an appetite—I'll just take a stroll to the end of the garden to improve it." For as Hannah turned her head he had seen Margaret coming towards the gate of the Dutch garden, and Mr. Garratt was a politic young man.