'A nervous young person!' she said. 'What was he saying about a
yacht, Nesta?'

Mrs Ford roused herself from her fascinated contemplation of
Ogden.

'Oh, nothing. Some of us are going to the south of France in his
yacht next week.'

'What a delightful idea!'

There was a certain pensive note in Cynthia's voice.

'A splendid idea!' she murmured.

Mrs Ford swooped. She descended on Ogden in a swirl and rustle of
expensive millinery, and clasped him to her.

'My boy!'

It is not given to everybody to glide neatly into a scene of tense
emotion. Ogden failed to do so. He wriggled roughly from the
embrace.

'Got a cigarette?' he said.

He was an extraordinarily unpleasant little boy. Physically the
portrait standing on the chair did him more than justice. Painted
by a mother's loving hand, it flattered him. It was bulgy. He was