He entered. He was transformed. His face and hair shone, he had changed his suit. His air of righteous indignation had not diminished.
“That’s better,” said his mother approvingly. “Now, William, do just sit down here till tea-time. There’s only about ten minutes, and it’s no good your going out. You’ll only get yourself into a mess again if you don’t sit still.”
William glanced round the drawing-room with the air of one goaded beyond bearing.
“Here?”
“Well, dear—just till tea-time.”
“What can I do in here? There’s nothing to do, is there? I can’t sit still and not do anything, can I?”
“Oh, read a book. There are ever so many books over there you haven’t read, and I’m sure you’d like some of them. Try one of Scott’s,” she ended rather doubtfully.
William walked across the room with an expression of intense suffering, took out a book at random, and sat down in an attitude of aloof dignity, holding the book upside down.
It was thus that Mrs. de Vere Carter found him when she was announced a moment later.
Mrs. de Vere Carter was a recent addition to the neighbourhood. Before her marriage she had been one of the Randalls of Hertfordshire. Everyone on whom Mrs. de Vere Carter smiled felt intensely flattered. She was tall, and handsome, and gushing, and exquisitely dressed. Her arrival had caused quite a sensation. Everyone agreed that she was “charming.”