"Oh, yes," murmured Genevieve, "of course. I can see that."
The doors swung open. A thin little man of forty to fifty stood there, a dry but good-humored man, with many wrinkles about his quizzical blue eyes, and sandy hair at the sides and back of an otherwise bald head. He was smartly dressed in a homespun Norfolk suit. He waved a cap of homespun in greeting.
"Afternoon, ladies! Genevieve, a bachelor's admiration and respect! I hope that boy George has got sense enough to be proud of you. But they haven't at that age. They're all for themselves."
"Oh no, Uncle Martin," cried Genevieve, "George is the most generous——"
Mr. Martin Jaffry flicked his cap. "All right. All right! He is." And slowly retreated.
Mrs. Brewster-Smith, an eager light in her eyes, moved part way across the room. "But we can't let you run away like this, Mr. Jaffry. Do sit down and tell us about the work you are doing at the Country Club. Is it to be bowling alley and swimming pool——"
"Bowling alley and swimming pool, yes. Tell me, chick, might a humble constituent speak to the great man?"
Genevieve hesitated. "I'm sure he'd love to see you, Uncle Martin. But he did say——"
"Not to be disturbed by anybody, eh?"
"Yes, Uncle Martin. It's a very important statement he has to prepare before——"