Westmore called across the room:
“Thessalie and I are going shopping! Any objections?”
A sudden and totally unexpected dart seemed to penetrate the heart region of Garret Barres. It was jealousy and it hurt.
“No objection at all,” he said, wondering how the devil Westmore had become so familiar with her name in such a very brief encounter.
Thessalie rose and came over:
“Dulcie, will you come with us?” she asked gaily.
“That’s a first rate idea,” said Barres, cheering up. “Dulcie, tell her what things you have and she’ll tell you what you need for Foreland Farms.”
“Indeed I will,” cried Thessalie. “We’ll make her 232 perfectly adorable in a most economical manner. Shall we, dear?”
And she held out her hand to Dulcie, and, smiling, turned her head and looked across the room at Westmore.
Which troubled Barres and left him rather silent there in the studio after they had gone away. For he had rather fancied himself as the romance in Thessalie’s life, and, at times, was inclined to sentimentalise a little about her.