“ Perhaps I had better see Lord Tilbury,” he suggested, rising. “By the way, my niece, Miss Derrick. Kay, my dear, Mr. Shotter.”
The departure of the third party and the sudden institution of the intimacies of a tête-à-tête had the usual effect of producing a momentary silence. Then Kay moved away from the window and came to the desk.
“ Did you say you had come from America?” she asked, fiddling with Mr. Wrenn’s editorial pencil. She had no desire to know, but she supposed she must engage this person in conversation.
“ From America, yes. Yes, from America.”
“ Is this your first visit to England?” asked Kay, stifling a yawn.
“ Oh, no. I was at school in England.”
“ Really? Where?”
“ At Wrykyn.”
Kay’s attitude of stiff aloofness relaxed. She became intereste
