He returned, blue towel in hand. “But what can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. If he decided to watch television upstairs with his mother, she would probably retire before he did, but she was a light sleeper. Chapter XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” “By-the-bye,” his neighbour asked him languidly, “who is our hostess?” “Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison answered, “unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong house. “Dyed!” “And your figure?” “One’s corsetière arranges that. .
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