Mrs Dean had contemplated an afternoon spent tête-à-tête with Maud, who, though obviously stupid, must, she thought, be able to enlighten her on various aspects of the Herriard inheritance; but this plan was frustrated at the outset by Maud herself. She said that she expected Mrs Dean would like to lie down after her tiring morning.

‘Oh dear me, no!’ declared Mrs Dean, with her wide smile. ‘I always say that nothing ever tires me!’

‘You are very fortunate,’ said Maud, gathering up her knitting and a magazine. ‘I can never do without my afternoon rest.’

So that was that. Maud went away, and Mrs Dean was left to the company of Edgar Mottisfont.

Mathilda, meanwhile, had joined Stephen in the billiard-room, and was playing a hundred up with him, in a not very serious fashion. As she chalked the tip of her cue, she said: ‘Far be it from me to interfere with your simple pleasures, Stephen, but I wish you’d let up on Joe. He means so well, you know.’

‘You damn him in four words. Go in off the red.’

‘Leave me to play my own game in my own way,’ said Mathilda severely, but following out his instruction. ‘I find Joe rather pathetic.’

‘Broken-down actor. I don’t.’

‘Thanks, we can all see that. I wish I knew why he is so fond of you.’

‘I can honestly say that I have never, at any time, given him cause to be. If you hit the white fairly fine, and with plenty of running side –’

‘Be quiet! Why do you dislike him so much?’

‘Damned old hypocrite!’ said Stephen savagely. ‘You haven’t had to watch him oiling up to Uncle Nat for two years.’

‘If he’d done you out of your inheritance you might have grounds for your dislike,’ she pointed out.

‘Blast him! I wish he had!’

She could not help laughing. ‘Yes, I can understand that, but really it’s very unworthy of you, Stephen! I admit that his manner is against him, and that his habit of calling you an old bear gives you some excuse for feeling homicidal, but to give him his due he’s treated you remarkably white. I imagine Nat would never have drawn up that will without his persuasion.’

Stephen slammed the red ball into one of the bottom pockets, and straightened his back. ‘Being, as he would tell you, cross-grained, so much altruism nauseates me!’

She retrieved the red ball from the pocket, and spotted it for him. ‘That’s unreasonable. If he were entirely hypocritical, he’d have tried to induce Nat to leave all his money to him.’

He hunched one impatient shoulder. ‘The fellow’s always acting. I can’t stand him.’

‘Well, he can’t help that: it’s second nature. He sees himself in so many rôles. Did you hear him sustaining a spirited dialogue with your prospective mother-in-law?’

‘Did I not!’ he said, grinning. ‘Did you hear him relying on my good nature to keep him out of the workhouse?’