"Any chance of your taking me back to the Milan?" Wingate enquired.

Sarah shook her head regretfully, glancing down at her muslin gown.

"Can't you see I'm in my party clothes?" she said. "I did bring the old
'bus down here, but I had a boy meet me and take it away. I'll send you
my card and telephone number, Mr. Wingate. You can rely upon my
punctuality and dispatch. Even my aunt here would give me a reference,
if pressed," she added, as their hostess paused for a moment to whisper
something in Josephine's ear.

"Your driving's like your life, dear, much too fast for my liking." Lady
Amesbury declared. "I hope things are better in your country, Mr.
Wingate, but our young people go on anyhow now. Here's my niece drives a
taxicab and is proud of it, my own daughter designs underclothes and
sells them at a shop in Sloane Street to any one who comes along, and my
boy, who ought to go into the Guards, prefers to go into Roger Kendrick's
office. What are you going to start him at, Roger?"

"A pound a week and his lunch money, probably," Kendrick replied.

"I don't think he'll earn it," his fond mother said sadly. "However,
that's your business. Don't forget you're dining with me Sunday night,
John. I'll ask Josephine, too, if you succeed in making friends with
her. She's a little difficult, but well worth knowing.--Dear me, I wish
people would begin to go! I wonder whether they realise that it is
nearly six o'clock."

"I shan't stir a yard," Sarah declared, "until I have had another ice.
Jimmy, run and fetch me one."