Dinah selected a cigarette from her case and lit it. "At home, trying a new treatment."

"Oh, lord!" sighed Fay, momentarily diverted. "I thought she'd taken up Christian Science?"

"It didn't last. She read a bit in some evening paper about proper dieting, and she's gone all lettucey. Nuts, too. That's why I'm here. There's a filthy beverage you drink for breakfast instead of coffee. I thought not, so I cleared out."

"Well, I do hope she won't make herself ill," said Fay.

"Not she. By the time I get back she'll have got religion, or something, and we shall have grace before meals, but not before lettuces, so to speak. As for her having sense enough to stop you marrying Arthur — well, pull yourself together, Fay!"

Fay smiled rather wanly. "I know. Now, say I made my bed and must lie on it."

"I shouldn't think anyone could possibly lie on any bed you ever made, ducky. Cut loose." "Cut loose?"

Dinah blew smoke rings, one through the other. "Isn't Barkis willing? I thought he was frightfully willing."

Fay coloured. "Yes, but I couldn't. You don't know what you're talking about. I'd sooner die than face the scandal, and the Divorce Court, and all that hatefulness."

"All right," said Dinah equably. "Have it your own way. Do we have tea in this well-run establishment, or are you slimming?"

Fay cast a startled glance at the clock, and sprang up. "Heaven's, it's past four! I must fly or Arthur will have a fit. He can't bear unpunctuality. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," said Dinah, "but I shall dawdle for ten minutes for the good of Arthur's soul."

She began in a leisurely way, as soon as her sister had left the room, to unpack her dressing-case, and it was quite a quarter of an hour later when she at last prepared to join the tea-party on the terrace.