This slightly tactless reference to his son's betrothed provoked the General into saying with a rasp in his voice: "I've already told you I've no interest in the young woman, and I don't want her name dinned in my ears all day long. Go and put your tennis shoes on, and for God's sake consider your guests' wishes for once in a way!"

There was a moment's uncomfortable silence. Fay got up, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes downcast to hide the sudden, startled tears. Stephen Guest rose also, his gaze fixed on her.

Camilla gave an affected little shriek. "Really, you are the most dreadfully masterful man I've ever met!" she said. "I should be terrified of being your partner now. I know you'd bark at me in that paralysing parade voice of yours every time I missed a shot, and I should be simply petrified with fear. And it isn't I who want to play at all. I'm completely exhausted, and I'd far rather stay where I am, and — now don't be cross with me! Promise you won't be?"

"That's a very easy promise," said the General.

"Then I'll confess that I'm simply dying to meet the de Silva!" said Camilla audaciously. "I think it's just too thrilling!"

"Who is this Miss de Silva?" asked Stephen Guest in a low voice.

"Geoffrey's intended," replied Dinah, finishing what was left of her tea. "Cabaret dancer. Said to be Mexican."

"Good heavens! Is he bringing her here? Young fool!" He glanced towards Fay, who had seated herself again behind the tea-table, and added, almost beneath his breath: "I suppose you realise who it is who will be made to suffer?"

"Let us go and look at the roses," said Dinah. "Come on!"

He looked down at her, his eyes still smouldering, but considerably puzzled. "What?"

"Go and look at the roses," repeated Dinah firmly, and got up. "We're going for a stroll in the rose garden, Fay."