instance, don’t enquire after them while he’s handing Lady Underhill the potatoes! She wouldn’t like it.” 

 Jill uttered an exclamation. 

 “I knew there was something! Being so cold and wanting to rush in and crouch over a fire put it clean out of my head. He must be thinking me a perfect beast!” She ran to the door. “Parker! Parker!” 

 Parker appeared from nowhere. 

 “Yes, miss?” 

 “I’m so sorry I forgot to ask before. How are your chilblains?” 

 “A good deal better, miss, thank you.” 

 “Did you try the stuff I recommended?” 

 “Yes, miss. It did them a world of good.” 

 “Splendid!” 

 Jill went back into the sitting-room. 

 “It’s all right,” she said reassuringly. “They’re better.” 

 She wandered restlessly about the room, looking at the photographs. 

 “What a lot of girls you seem to know, Freddie. Are these all the ones you’ve loved and lost?” She sat down at the piano and touched the keys. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the half hour. “I wish to goodness they would arrive,” she said. 

 “They’ll be here pretty soon, I expect.” 

 “It’s rather awful,” said Jill, “to think of Lady Underhill racing all the way from Mentone to Paris and from Paris to Calais and from Calais to Dover and from Dover to London simply to inspect me. You can’t wonder I’m nervous, Freddie.” 

 The eye-glass dropped from Freddie’s eye. 

 “Are you nervous?” he asked, astonished. 

 “Of course I’m nervous. Wouldn’t you be in my place?” 

 “Well, I should never have thought it.” 

 Prev. P 26/312 next