“So delighted to come!” said Mrs. Atkinson Brown to Herbert’s mother.
Herbert grasped the man’s hand and wrung it warmly.
“Good of you to come. Devilish good.”
“Glad to come,” said Mr. Atkinson Brown. “Glad to come, my lad. How’s the wife?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Atkinson Brown, glancing round the room. “Where’s dear Clare?... Well, I hope.”
Herbert tried to hide his extreme nervousness.
“Oh, tremendously fit, thanks. She’ll be here in a minute or two.”
Mrs. Heywood appeared less nervous than her son. Yet her voice trembled a little when she said:
“Do sit down, Mrs. Atkinson Brown.”
She pulled a chair up, but the lady protested laughingly: