“I told them you were coming,” said Tony resolutely. “And of course you are. There are simply heaps of reasons. The plot’s thickening like anything, and it’s absurd of you to pretend that you are not in it, because you are, right up to your neck. And now I’ll give you my reasons. In the first place there’s mother. At the picnic yesterday Alice spotted that there was some one else; of course she will speak to mother, probably has spoken already. As I have told you already, she has perfect confidence in you, and as long as you are there it’s perfectly right, but if you leave me she’ll begin to worry her head off. Then again, there’s Janet herself. I want her to get to know you and trust you. She’ll want some one older just as much as I do, probably more, because she’s a girl and a frightful kid. Oh! rot! I’m no use at explaining, and the situation’s jolly difficult; only how can she possibly trust you and the rest of it, if she never sees you? And last of all, there’s me. I want you to see how the thing’s going so that we can talk about it. There’s something ‘up,’ I know, I could see this morning that she’d been crying. I believe Morelli’s beastly to her or something. Anyhow, you’re bound and pledged and everything, and you’re a ripping old brick to be so decent about it,” at the end of which Tony, breathless with argument and excitement seized Maradick by the arm and dragged him away. But Maradick had a great deal to think about, and it was as much for this reason as for any real reluctance to visit the Morellis that he hesitated. And the tea-party was a great success. Everyone was in the very best of humours, and the restraint that had been there a little on the first occasion had now quite passed away. The sun poured into the room, and shone so that everything burnt with colour. Maradick felt again how perfect a setting it made for the two who were its centre, the blue-tiled fireplace, the fantastic blue and white china on the walls, the deep blue of the carpet set the right note for a background. On the table the tea-things, the old silver teapot and milk jug, old red and white plates and an enormous bowl of flaming poppies, gave the colour. Then against the blue sky and dark brown roofs beyond the window was Janet, with her golden hair and the white dress with the pink roses. Miss Minns was the only dark figure in the room and she scarcely seemed to matter. The only words that she spoke were to Maradick, “In for a penny in for a pound,” she suddenly flung at him à propos of some story of Epsom expenses, and then felt apparently that she had said too much and was quiet for the rest of the afternoon.