"That depends, Mr. Blair, on whether he was interested in buying or selling."
"What was his address in England?"
"London."
"Beautifully explicit. Will you forgive me a moment while I telephone? Do you smoke?" He opened the cigarette box and pushed it towards Mr. Lange.
"Milford 195. You will do me the honour of having lunch with me, Mr. Lange, won't you? Aunt Lin? I have to go to London directly after lunch…. Yes, for the night. Will you be an angel and pack a small bag for me?… Thank you, darling. And would it be all right if I brought someone back to take pot-luck for lunch today?… Oh, good…. Yes, I'll ask him." He covered the mouthpiece, and said: "My aunt, who is actually my cousin, wants to know if you eat pastry?"
"Mr. Blair!" Mr. Lange said, with a wide smile and a wide gesture for his girth. "And you ask a Dane?"
"He loves it," Robert said into the telephone. "And I say, Aunt Lin. Were you doing anything important this afternoon?… Because what I think you ought to do is to go to St. Matthew's and give thanks…. Your angel of the Lord has arrived."
Even Mr. Lange could hear Aunt Lin's delighted: " Robert! No, not really!"
"In the flesh…. No, not a bit scruffy…. Very tall and beautiful and altogether perfect for the part…. You'll give him a good lunch, won't you?… Yes, that's who is coming to lunch. An angel of the Lord."
He put down the telephone and looked up at the amused Mr. Lange.