As Beresford approached, Lady Drewitt continued to stare at him with uncompromising intentness through her lorgnettes.
"What is the meaning of this, Richard?" she demanded in level tones as he reached the side of the carriage.
"That's just what has been puzzling me," said Beresford, smiling across at his cousin Cecily. "I think the weather people call it the approach of an anti-cyclone. For June in London it's really"
"Don't be a fool, Richard. Why are you in London?"
"My dear Aunt, it's June and I am a Challice. We Challices all gravitate towards the metropolis in June just as the cuckoo gravitates What is it the cuckoo gravitates towards, Cecily?" he enquired, turning suddenly to Mrs. Edward.
"You said that you were going to sell all your—your"
"Duds," suggested Beresford helpfully, as Lady Drewitt hesitated. "I did." He enjoyed Mrs. Edward's scandalised look.
"Then how is it?" again she hesitated.
"I bought more. My tailor seemed quite pleased," he added as an afterthought.
"But why are you in town, Richard?" burst out Mrs. Edward, unable longer to restrain herself. Her tone seemed to imply that Beresford's being in London was an offence against good taste.
"The bucolic life was too much for me, Cecily. You would be astounded at the bewildering manner
