‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. She went down, flushed and light-hearted, to the Widgetts’ after lunch to make some final arrangements and then, as soon as her aunt had retired to lie down for her usual digestive hour, took the risk of the servants having the enterprise to report her proceedings and carried her bag and hold-all to the garden gate, whence Teddy, in a state of ecstatic service, bore them to the railway station.
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