A slender young man, wearing glasses, appeared from the shadow of the nearest van. ‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. “I said you were”—he shouted—“NOT TO GO!” She made, and overdid, an immense effort to be a princess. Not only that, but he carried himself erect— the slight slouch which had bent his shoulders had altogether disappeared. One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him.
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