"What a bother!"
Lord Dredlinton, more dignified than usual but if possible still more
unpleasant, threaded his way between the chairs and paused before the
two, followed, a few spaces behind, by Phipps.
"Hullo, Flossie!" the former exclaimed. "How are you, Wingate? You got
my letter?"
"I received your letter and also your telephone message," Wingate
replied stiffly. "So far as I am concerned, the matter, as I told you,
is at an end."
"That's all right, then.--Flossie," Dredlinton continued, looking
reproachfully at the young woman whose hand he was still holding, "I told
you last night that you ought to know better. You should confine your
attentions to the black sheep of the world, like me. Dear me!" he went
on, standing a little on one side so as not to conceal Wingate. "My wife,
apparently, has been lunching here. Wingate, shall we form a screen in
front of you, or are you content to be toppled from your pedestal?"
Wingate met the ill-natured sneer indifferently. He even smiled as
Phipps, standing on the outside of the little circle, also altered his
position. It was clearly the intention of both that Josephine should
realise the situation. Attracted by a gesture from her husband, she
glanced across at them. For a single moment she half hesitated. There was
a queer look in her eyes, a look of surprise mingled even with pain.
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