Chapter XXXVIIMrs Foster came down to breakfast on Thursday morning in a state of nervous exasperation.
‘Really, Archie’s the limit! Yes, I know he’s my cousin. Now, George, it’s no use your looking like that—I never said he was your cousin or anybody else’s cousin—I know he’s mine. But you needn’t try and make out that all your relations are angel beings who never do tiresome things, or land you in holes, or shove strange girls on to you in the middle of a dinner-party.’
The broad face of George Foster emerged from behind The Times.
‘Got a bit off the rails, haven’t you? Take a good deep breath and start fresh.’
‘George!’
‘My dear child, what is it?’
‘I’m feeling simply too temperamental, and I could kill Archie! First he dumps this girl on me in the very middle of a dinner-party—’
