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‘How do you do,’ said Hester. She was not smiling.

‘I heard you were married, but I never heard to whom. This is delightful,’ said Captain Ingpen, and, though he did not look delighted, he continued to smile at the young woman.

‘How amusing that you should know each other,’ said Monica, while Hester moved slowly forward and came to stand beside her husband. ‘And that you should be neighbours without yet having found each other out.—When was it that you met?’

‘In London; after the war.—Whom did not one meet in those days?—eh, Mrs. Wilmott?’ smiled Ingpen. ‘You have every right to forget me if you choose.’

‘Oh—I don’t forget you at all, said Hester.

‘Where is my shawl, Clive?’

‘Have you left it upstairs— or in the hall?’—Clive was going to look but Hester checked him; ‘It’s in the car. I remember. How tiresome of me. Will you get it?’ She walked away to the fireplace at the other end of the room.

‘Wasn’t she interested in Russia? Didn’t she perform great feats for such a young creature—just fresh from Girton if I remember—and write some very remarkable articles about Dostoievsky