On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. They put her down, and she leaped at them; she smote a helmet to the ground. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. “All of which doesn’t help me in the slightest degree to pay back that money. Her hormones were raging stupidly. I never realized how fabulous all those homemade dishes were.
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