"Oh, very well," she answered.
But she returned to the subject yet again. She spoke defensively.
"I had to have him at Broadstairs with me. You couldn't have him in Scotland with you."
"Jackie, you mean?"
"Yes."
She gave a slightly marked shade of meaning to the words "in Scotland." To tell the truth, it was a little on my mind that I had had the more desirable summer of the two of us. I am no snob, but I do prefer some people to others, and if people do run in strata, well, nobody can tell me much I don't know about the clerk and cycle-agent class, and they don't charm me. I spoke with a little compunction.
"I wish it could have been helped, darling. Anyway, we sha'n't be separated again."
(I may say that I don't think Evie had thought it very remarkable that I should have had that accident at Aunt Angela's party. She had fainted herself, and knew little of the later events; and we have lived too long together for her not to be aware that, rugged as I may appear to the rest of the world, I am a sensitive man.)
After a moment's silence: "Mrs Smithson has asked me down to Broadstairs for a week," she said. "She—of course she hadn't met you."
"You mean she's asked you without me?"