Gay laughed.

“Considering Sylvia had only known him for six weeks before they got married and you were away for quite half that time-”

Marcia giggled.

“It didn’t give me a chance, did it? But I really wouldn’t have married him even if Sylvia hadn’t got off with him first.”

“Well, I’ve only seen him twice. He seemed all right. Isn’t he being nice to Sylvia?”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that,” said Marcia. She got up, stretched herself, and gathered the pink dressing-gown round her. “Darling, I’ve got one last fitting. Such a bore! It’s the pink crepe. Mercifully, I tried it on when it came at lunch-time, and the hem is crooked. I told Madame Frederica exactly what I thought about it on the telephone, and she fairly crawled, so she’s sending a girl to do it here, and Mrs. Middleton says I can use her room, because it’s got a much better glass than this.” She got as far as the door, yawned, and said over her shoulder, “So you can see Sylvia here.”

Gay leapt from the rose-coloured eiderdown, caught Marcia by a pink satin shoulder, and shook it vigorously.

“Sylvia? My good girl, what are you talking about?”

Marcia’s rather light blue eyes opened widely.

“Darling, didn’t I tell you? She’s coming here on purpose to see you. That’s why I wanted you to come.”

“Sylvia’s coming here to see me?”

“Yes, darling. Didn’t I tell you?”

Gay stamped an angry foot.

“You know very well you didn’t! It’s a plant! You’re wriggling out and landing me with Sylvia exactly like you always did at school!”

Marcia giggled faintly.

“Darling, somebody’s got to help her, and I’m going to Java.”