LOLLY WILLOWES
Titus that evening. No sooner had coffee been served than Sibyl began about his career. Had Caroline ever heard of anything more ridiculous? Titus still declared that he meant to manage the family brewery. After all his success at Oxford and his popularity, could anything be more absurd than to bury himself in Somerset?
His own name was the first thing that Titus heard as he entered the drawing-room. He greeted it with an approving smile, and sat down by Laura, carefully crossing his long legs.
"She spurns at the brewery, and wants me to take a studio in Hampstead and model bustos," he explained.
Titus had a soft voice. His speech was gentle and sedate, He chose his words with extreme care, but escaped the charge of affectation by pronouncing them in a hesitating manner.
"I'm sure sculpture is his métier," said Sibyl. "Or perhaps poetry. Anyhow, not brewing. I wish you could have seen that little model he made for the grocer at Arcachon."
Marion said: "I thought bustos always had
"My dear, you've hit it. In fact, that is
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