In spite of being called a tiresome toad in the sort of voice which makes an intimate and flattering term of it, Jeremy remained angry.

“I don’t see why you weren’t trained for anything. Girls ought to be.”

“Yes, darling, but I wasn’t. My mother married a more or less penniless parson with his head in the clouds, and they never thought about it. They never had any time to think about anything, because the parish was much too big and poor. And they died when I was fifteen, and my grandfather took me in and sent me to the sort of school where they concentrate on your manners and don’t bother about sordid things like earning your living.”

“Which grandfather?” said Jeremy in a different voice.

“Oh, the Taverner one-mother’s father-your grandfather’s brother-old Jeremiah Taverner’s eighth child and sixth son. I know the whole lot off by heart. The eldest was Jeremiah after his father, and then there were Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts, and the two girls, Mary and Joanna. Your grandfather was John, and mine was Acts. And if we hadn’t met by accident six months ago at the dullest party on earth we shouldn’t have known we existed. I mean you wouldn’t have known I did, and I wouldn’t have known you did.” She came up close, so that her shoulder rubbed against his arm. “You know, the other six probably all left descendants too, and I expect most of them will have seen the advertisement and answered it. I do wonder what they’re like-don’t you?”

Jeremy said, “It must have been a whale of a family row.”

“Oh, I don’t know-people drift away-”

“Not to that extent. My grandfather used to talk about his twin, Joanna, but I don’t think he ever saw her. He was clever, you know-took scholarships, and got into one of these research laboratories. That’s how my father came to be a doctor. He was killed in nineteen-eighteen. My mother married again and went to Australia, leaving me with the old boy. So we were both brought up by our grandfathers-Hi! There’s your bus!”