Betty's eyes sparkled.
"I don't think I should feel any different if—if it was you," she said. "I've been spending days and days in those houses, John dear, and I've seen such utter squalor and misery, where there needn't be any at all if only the owner would do his duty, and—and—"
She stopped. Her eyes were misty.
"Thumbs down, in fact," said John, nodding. "I'm with you."
As he spoke, two men came down the broad staircase into the grill-room. Betty's back was towards them, but John saw them, and stared.
"What are you looking at?" asked Betty.
"Will you count ten before looking round?"
"What is it?"
"Your stepfather has just come in."
"What!"