"Mr. Bundercombe!" she exclaimed portentously, taking no notice whatever
of me.
"My dear?" he replied.
"May I ask the meaning of your leaving the house like a truant schoolboy
at this hour of the morning, and in such garb!" demanded Mrs. Bundercombe,
eying him severely through her pince-nez. "Is your memory failing you,
Joseph Henry? Did you or did you not arrange to accompany me this morning
to a meeting at the offices of the Women's Social Federation?"
"I fear I--er--I had forgotten the matter," Mr. Bundercombe stammered. "An
affair of business--I was rung up on the telephone."
Mrs. Bundercombe stared at him. She said nothing; expression was
sufficient. She turned to me.
"Eve is in the morning room, Mr. Walmsley," she said. "I presume your
visit at this hour of the morning was intended for her."
"Precisely," I admitted. "I will go in and see her."
I opened the door and Mr. Bundercombe rather precipitately preceded me. If
he had contemplated escape, however, he was doomed to disappointment. Mrs.
Bundercombe followed us in. She reminded us of her presence by a hard
cough as Eve saluted me in a somewhat light-hearted fashion.
"Mind, there's mother!" Eve whispered, with a little grimace.
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