In the drawing-room they played bridge till the ladies’ bedtime. The Dean coming in, played the last rubber.
“I hope you’ll be able to sleep in a common or garden bed, Marmaduke,” said Peggy, and kissed him a perfunctory good night.
“I have heard,” remarked the Dean, “that it takes quite a time to grow accustomed to the little amenities of civilization.”
“That’s quite true, Uncle Edward,” laughed Doggie. “I’m terrified at the thought of the silk pyjamas Peddle has prescribed for me.”
“Why?” Peggy asked bluntly.
Oliver interposed laughing, his hand on Doggie’s shoulder.
“Tommy’s accustomed to go to bed in his day-shirt.”
“How perfectly disgusting!” cried Peggy, and swept from the room.
Oliver dropped his hand and looked somewhat abashed.
“I’m afraid I’ve been and gone and done it. I’m sorry. I’m still a barbarian South Sea Islander.”