She saw them, those grievances, come creeping round the corner and at once her hand was out and she held them, strangled, in her grip, and the danger was averted. Tony had often before been responsible for these agitations, but she had always caught them in time; now, she realised it as she crossed the dining-room, she was too late, and every moment of Tony’s absence made matters worse. Sir Richard looked at the menu, and then complained about it in monosyllables for several minutes. Maradick watched the door with nervous eyes. This intrusion of Sir Richard into the business complicated things horribly. Let him once suspect that Tony was carrying on an affair with some girl in the town and the boy would at once be sent away; that, of course, would mean the end of everything, for him as well as for Tony. The Gales would go, the Lesters would go—everyone, everything. Tony himself would not allow it to be left at that, but, after all, what could he do? Alice Du Cane was talking excitedly about nothing in particular, Mrs. Lester was very quiet, Rupert, as usual, was intent upon his food. Alice chattered at Mrs. Lester, “Lucy Romanes was there; you know, that ridiculous girl with the scraped back hair and the pink complexion. Oh! too absurd for anything! You know Muriel Halliday said that she simply spends her days in following Captain Fawcett round. He rather likes it . . . the sort of man who would. I can’t stand the girl.” Mrs. Lester smiled across the table. “It’s old Mrs. Romanes’s fault. She sends her round, she can’t get rid of any of her girls anywhere . . . five of them, poor things; she’d sell any of them for twopence.” Sir Richard had finished his soup, and he leaned across the table towards his wife. “What is the boy doing?” he said. “Really, Richard, I don’t know. He’s been out sailing, I expect, and the wind or something has kept him.” “I won’t have it”; he glowered at everyone. “He knows when meals are, he must be here. I must have obedience; and now I come to think of it”—he paused and looked round the table—“it has happened often lately. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but I remember now; frequently—yes—late.” Then, after a pause during which no one said a word, “What has he been doing?” This was so precisely the question that everyone else had been asking carefully and surreptitiously during the last few days that everyone looked guilty, as though they had been discovered in a crime. Then everyone turned to Maradick. He smiled. “I’ve been about with him a good deal lately, Sir Richard. I really don’t know what we’ve done very much beyond walking. But I think he was going to sail this afternoon.” Lady Gale looked anxiously at the waiter. If the food were all right the danger might be averted. But of course on this night of all nights everything was wrong: the potatoes were hard, the peas harder, the meat was overdone. Sir Richard glared at the waiter.