The heir to the barony was a dutiful young man; at least, in an age which has witnessed a somewhat alarming decline in parental authority, he passed as such. His deference, perhaps, was not of a type aggressively old-fashioned, but he honored his father and his mother.
"I'll get a box for the 'Chocolate Soldier' on Monday if you and Adela will come, Mater, but I don't see how I can throw over Teddy Clapham's kids—five of 'em—toddlers—and they ain't got a mother, you know."
"Phil-ipp, this is ridiculous. And dear Adela will be so disappointed, and on Monday there is a reception at the Foreign Office."
"You can go on afterwards."
"But your father and I are engaged to dinner with the Saxmundhams."
"Well, Mater, I'm sorry. I hope you'll explain to Adela. Got mixed in the date and if it hadn't been kids I really would in the circumstances—"
The door knob was now in the hand of the heir to the barony. Parthian bolts were launched at him, but he made good his escape.
"It's a nuisance," he muttered as he closed the door behind him, "but I really don't see what's to be done in the circumstances."
In the entrance hall he put on his hat and was helped by Joseph into an overcoat with an astrachan collar;
