Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so. Your father is very angry, and will not have her name mentioned in his hearing. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. “You are late,” she murmured.
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