“Victoria,” said Mrs. Pomfret, in her most imperial voice, “we ought to be going instantly, or we shan't have time to drop you at the Hammonds'.”
“I'll take you over in the new motor car,” said Mr. Crewe, with his air of conferring a special train.
“How much is gasoline by the gallon?” inquired Victoria.
“I did a favour once for the local manager, and get a special price,” said Mr. Crewe.
“Humphrey,” said Mrs. Pomfret, taking his hand, “don't forget you are coming to dinner to-night. Four people gave out at the last minute, and there will be just Alice and myself. I've asked old Mr. Fitzhugh.”
“All right,” said Mr. Crewe, “I'll have the motor car brought around.”
The latter part of this remark was, needless to say, addressed to Victoria.
“It's awfully good of you, Humphrey,” she answered, “but the Hammonds are on the road to Ripton, and I am going to ask Mr. Vane to drive me down there behind that adorable horse of his.”
This announcement produced a varied effect upon those who heard it, although all experienced surprise. Mrs. Pomfret, in addition to an anger which she controlled only as the result of long practice, was horrified, and once more levelled her glasses at Austen.
“I think, Victoria, you had better come with us,” she said. “We shall have plenty of time, if we hurry.”