"They would be. There's no bally mock modesty about George! Who is here, by the way?"
"Well, there's no one at the present moment except Alan's two children and old Mrs. Fawcett. I have got a regular smart house-party coming for you to-morrow, though."
She looked at me mischievously.
"Go on," I said; "I can bear it."
"There's Miss Faversham and her mother"—she began to tick them off on her fingers—"a good-looking girl, lots of money; her father is the big contractor, Faversham and Kent, you know. Then there are the Gordons—the K.C. and his wife; and the McCullochs from Innestair—another pretty girl there; and Raymond Sturgis—he's a sort of cousin of yours; and old Lord Pembery and——"
"Great Scott!" I interrupted. "Do you mean they're all coming in a bunch?"
"More or less. They will be here to dinner, anyhow. I shall want you to play host, Guy."
I groaned.
"Oh, it will do you good," she went on ruthlessly. "You shall have Miss Faversham on one side and the McCulloch girl on the other."
"If you're going to use threats—" I began with some dignity.