‘This,’ a voice whispered in Troy’s ear, ‘is perfect Pinero.’ She jumped violently. Cedric had slipped round behind his agitated relations and now leant over the back of her chair. ‘She played the name part, you know, in a revival of The Second Mrs Tanqueray.’

‘It’s no use, Pauline. Let them go. They knew my wishes. They have chosen the cruellest way. Let them,’ said Sir Henry with relish, ‘dree their weird.’

‘Thank you, Grandfather,’ said Fenella brightly, but with a shake in her voice. ‘It’s our weird and we shall be delighted to dree it.’

Sir Henry’s face turned an uneven crimson. ‘This is insufferable,’ he shouted, and his teeth, unable to cope with the violence of his diction, leapt precariously from their anchorage and were clamped angrily home. Fenella giggled nervously. ‘You are under age,’ Sir Henry pronounced suddenly. ‘Under age, both of you. Pauline, if you have the smallest regard for your old father’s wishes, you will forbid this lunacy. I shall speak to your mother, miss. I shall cable to your father.’

‘Mother won’t mind,’ said Fenella.

‘You know well, you know perfectly well, why I cannot countenance this nonsense.’

‘You think, don’t you, Grandfather,’ said Fenella, ‘that because we’re cousins we’ll have loopy young. Well, we’ve asked about that and it’s most unlikely. Modern medical opinion—’

‘Be silent! At least let some semblance of decency—’

‘I won’t be silent,’ said Fenella, performing with dexterity the feat known by actors as topping the other man’s lines. ‘And if we’re to talk about decency, Grandfather, I should have thought it was a damn sight more decent for two people who are young and in love to say they’re going to marry each other than for an old man to make an exhibition of himself—’

‘Fenella!’ shouted Pauline and Millamant in unison.

‘—doting on a peroxide blonde fifty years younger than himself, and a brazen gold-digger into the bargain.’

Fenella then burst into tears and ran out of the room, followed rigidly by Paul.

Troy, who had once more determined to make her escape, heard Fenella weeping stormily outside the door and stayed where she was. The remaining Ancreds were all talking at once. Sir Henry beat his fist on the mantelpiece until the ornaments danced again, and roared out: ‘My God, I’ll not have her under my roof another hour! My God—!’ Millamant and Pauline, on either side of him like a distracted chorus, wrung their hands and uttered plaintive cries. Cedric chattered noisily behind the sofa, where Miss Orrincourt still lay. It was she who put a stop to this ensemble by rising and confronting them with her hands on her hips.

‘I am not remaining here,’ said Miss Orrincourt piercingly, ‘to be insulted. Remarks have been passed in this room that no self-respecting girl in my delicate position can be expected to endure. Noddy!’