Olivia, with nerves on edge, welcomed the matronly swoop of Mrs. Rowington.
“My dear Bishop, I want to introduce you——”
He rose, made a courtly bow to Olivia.
“I’ll read your lordship’s next book of travel with great interest,” she said.
As the home-bound taxi drove off:
“Thank goodness that’s over,” said Triona.
She echoed with a sigh: “Yes, thank goodness.”
“All the bores of the earth.”
“Did you have a talk with Colonel Onslow?” she asked.
“The biggest of the lot. I’m sick to death of the Caucasus,” he added with unusual irritation. “I wish I had never been near it. I hate these specially selected dinner parties of people you don’t want to meet and will never meet again.” He took her hand, which was limp and unresponsive. “Did you have a rotten time, too?”
“I wish we hadn’t gon
