“Jasper and me,” Julia said, “on board the Oriana. We adore it. Do you paint?”

“Luckily, I don’t even try.”

“A policeman, perhaps?”

“Not even that, I’m afraid. An unnatural son.”

“Jasper,” said his wife, “is a mathematician and is writing a book about the binomial theorem but you mustn’t say I said so because he doesn’t care to have it known. Selina, darling, one more face like that and out you go before the pudding which is strawberries and cream.”

Selina, with the aid of her fingers, had dragged down the corners of her mouth, slitted her eyes, and leered across the table at Miss Harkness. She let her face snap back into normality, and then lounged in her chair, sinking her chin on her chest and rolling her eyes. Her sister, Julietta, was consumed with laughter.

“Aren’t children awful,” Julia asked, “when they set out to be witty? Yesterday at luncheon Julietta said, ‘My pud’s made of mud,’ and they both laughed themselves sick. Jasper and I were made quite miserable by it.”

“It won’t last,” Ricky assured her.

“It had better not.” She leaned toward him. He caught a whiff of her scent, became startlingly aware of her thick immaculate skin, and felt an extraordinary stillness come over him.

“So far, so good, wouldn’t you say?” she breathed. “I mean — at least she’s not cutting up rough.”

“She’s eating quite well,” Ricky muttered.

Julia gave him a look of radiant approval. He was uplifted. “Gosh!” he thought. “Oh, gosh, what is all this?”

It was with a sensation of having been launched upon uncharted seas that he took his leave of the Pharamonds and returned to his lodging in the village.

“That’s an upsetting lady,” thought Ricky. “A very lovely and upsetting lady.”