SHELTERED PEOPLE
joined them, heard her last words and broke into a shrug.
“It’s the khaki, Hammersley. The women will follow it to the ends of the earth. Broadcloth and tweeds are not the fashion.” He ran his arm through Hammersley’s. “There’s nothing for you and me but to volunteer.”
The Honorable Cyril only stared at him blankly.
“Haw!” he said, which, as Lady Betty once expressed it, was half the note of a jackass.
Here the Kipshavens arrived and their hostess signaled the advance upon the dinner-table.
One of the secrets of the success of Lady Heathcote’s dinners was the size and shape of her table, which seated no more than ten and was round. Her centerpieces were flat and her candelabra low so that any person at the table could see and converse with anyone else. It was thus possible delicately to remind those who insisted on completely appropriating their dinner partners that private matters could be much more safely discussed in the many corners of the house designed for the purpose. Doris sat between Rizzio and Byfield, Hammersley with Lady Joyliffe just opposite, and when Rizzio announced the American girl’s decision to go to France as soon as her training was completed she became the immediate center of interest.
“That’s neutrality of the right sort,” said Kipshaven heartily. “I wish all of your countrymen felt as you do.”
“I think most of them do,” replied Doris, smiling slowly, “but you know, you haven’t always been nice to us. There have been many times when we felt that as an older brother you treated us
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