This was a remark that Dorothy could not gainsay. She knew very well what Florence’s temper was like.
“But, Mr. Jeremy,” went on the old lady, “all this must be stupid talk for you to listen to; tell me, have you been rowing any more races lately?”
“No,” said Jeremy, “I strained a muscle in my arm in the ’Varsity Race, and it is not quite well yet.”
“And where is my dear Ernest?” Like most women, of whatever age they might be, Miss Ceswick adored Ernest.
“He is coming back on Monday week.”
“O, then he will be in time for the Smythes’ lawn tennis party. I hear that they are going to give a dance after it. Do you dance, Mr. Jeremy?”
Jeremy had to confess that he did not; indeed, as a matter of fact, no earthly power had ever been able to drag him inside a ballroom in his life.
“That i
