‘Yes,’ Grant said, busy with the stove. ‘She is Viscountess Kentallen.’
Mr Cullen considered this in silence for a little.
‘I supposed that’s a sort of marked-down Countess.’
‘No. On the contrary. A very superior kind. Practically a Marchioness. Look, Mr Cullen, let’s postpone this matter of your friend for a little. It’s a matter that interests me more than I can say, but—’
‘Yes, of course, I’ll go. When can I talk to you again about it?’
‘Of course you will not go! You’ll stay and have some food with us.’
‘You mean you want me to meet this Marchioness, this—whatyoumaycallit, Viscountess?’
‘Why not? She is a very nice person to meet. One of the nicest persons I know.’
‘Yes?’ Mr Cullen looked with interest at the approaching Zoë. ‘She’s certainly very nice to look at. I didn’t know they came like that. Somehow I imagined all aristocrats had beaky noses.’
‘Specially provided for looking down, I take it.’