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 they walked upstairs, Beresford judged that it was a dinner-party of considerable proportions.

"Lord Drewitt, Mr. Richard Beresford," bawled Payne, as if determined that his voice should beat down the volume of sound that seemed set on escaping from the room. Lady Drewitt was standing near the door. As they entered she turned and sailed towards them.

"Are you better?" she demanded with uncompromising directness.

"Much, thank you," replied Drewitt, with a smile. "I sent out for another."

"Sent out for another!" she looked at him suspiciously. "Payne said your man telephoned that you had a slight heart-attack."

"Ah! was that it? I thought I had swallowed a sleeve-link, the symptoms are so similar. By the way," he added, "I made Richard come with me, I'm getting a little concerned about his spending his evenings alone in London."

Lady Drewitt gave Beresford a look that told him all he had anticipated; then, turning to Drewitt, she said, "I want to introduce you to Mrs. Crisp; Miss Craven is indisposed."

"It is not for the lamb to protest," he murmured as he followed, leaving Beresford to amuse himself by a contemplation of his aunt's somewhat clumsy strategy in her selection of guests, most of whom were middle-aged or elderly.

A moment later he felt a hand upon his arm, and