"I suppose," said Molly, "we'd better go upstairs?"
Mrs. Waddington came out of her trance.
"You had better go upstairs," she said, emphasising the pronoun in a manner that would have impressed itself upon the least sensitive of men. George got it nicely.
"I—er—think, perhaps," he mumbled, "as it is—er—getting late...."
"You aren't going?" said Molly concerned.
"Certainly Mr. Finch is going," said Mrs. Waddington: and there was that in her demeanour which suggested that at any moment she might place one hand on the scruff of his neck and the other on the seat of his trousers and heave. "If Mr. Finch has appointments that call him elsewhere, we must not detain him. Good night, Mr. Finch."
"Good night. Thank you for a—er—very pleasant evening."
"It was most kay-eend of you to come," said Mrs. Waddington.
"Do come again," said Molly.
"Mr. Finch," said Mrs. Waddington, "is no doubt a very ba-husy man. Please go upstairs immediately, Molly. Good na'eet, Mr. Finch."