These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. That was the true marvel of it. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. He's settling an account in the house. But she did not bother her head very much about her relations with these sympathizers.
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