“Ah, yes?” murmured Sir Herbert. “I’m sure Miss Harris is a perfect dragon with figures. What’s the total, Miss Harris?”

“For the ball, Sir Herbert?” Miss Harris glanced at Lady Carrados who nodded a little nervously. “It’s about a thousand pounds.”

“Good God!” exclaimed Sir Herbert and let his eyeglass fall.

“You see, darling,” began his wife in a hurry, “it just won’t come down to less. Even with Arthur’s house. And if we have champagne at the buffet—”

“I cannot see the smallest necessity for champagne at the buffet, Evelyn. If these young cubs can’t get enough to drink in the supper-room all I can say is, they drink a great deal too much. I must say,” continued Sir Herbert with an air of discovery, “that I do not understand the mentality of modern youths. Gambling too much, drinking too much, no object in life — look at that young Potter.”

“If you mean Donald Potter,” said Bridget dangerously, “ I must—”

“Bridgie!” said her mother.

“You’re wandering from the point, Bridget,” said her stepfather.

“Me!”

“My point is,” said Sir Herbert with a martyred glance at his wife, “that the young people expect a great deal too much nowadays. Champagne at every table—”

“It’s not that—” began Bridget from the door.

“It’s only that it saves—” interrupted her mother.

“However,” continued Sir Herbert with an air of patient courtesy, “if you feel that you can afford to spend a thousand pounds on an evening, my dear—”

“But it isn’t all Donna’s money,” objected Bridget. “It’s half mine. Daddy left—”

“Bridget, darling,” said Lady Carrados, “breakfast.”

“Sorry, Donna,” said Bridget. “All right.” She went out.

Miss Harris wondered if she too had better go, but nobody seemed to remember she was in the room and she did not quite like to remind them of her presence by making a move. Lady Carrados with an odd mixture of nervousness and determination was talking rapidly.