J.R. RAGGETT'


It struck Edith that it was quite extraordinary, after so many
descriptions from Bruce--some vivid, some sketchy, others subtly
suggestive--how little she could imagine Raggett.

Notwithstanding quantities of words, nothing, somehow, had ever come out
to throw the least glimmer of light either on his character,
personality, or walk of life. Not bad, all right, useful, rather
wonderful, but quite ordinary and nothing particular, were some of the
phrases she recalled. She had never been told anything about his age,
nor his appearance, nor how long Bruce had known him. She had only
gathered that he wasn't athletic like Goldthorpe (Bruce's golf
companion), and that he wasn't in the Foreign Office, and didn't belong
to Bruce's club. Where, how, and when could he be useful?

If she seemed bored when Bruce was enthusiastic about him, he was
offended; but if she seemed interested and asked leading questions, he
became touchy and cautious, almost jealous. Sometimes she had begun to
think that Raggett was a Mrs Harris--that there was no such person.
There, evidently, she had been wrong.


At eight o'clock that evening, on arriving at the Savoy, Edith decided
not to take off her cloak (on the ground of chilliness, but really
because it was smarter and more becoming than her dress). Therefore she
waited in the outer room while Bruce, who seemed greatly excited, and
had given her various contradictory tips about how to behave to their
guest, was taking off his coat. Several other people were waiting there.