"Dear, it's only one of the cotton frocks I wear every day, and I
couldn't go driving without a hat, could I?"

"Can't conceive why you want to go at all." Laura was silent.
"If Lawrence must be met, why can't Miller go alone?" Miller was
the chauffeur. "Undignified, I call it, the way you women run
after a man nowadays. You think men like it but they don't."

Laura wondered if she dared tell him not to be silly. He might
take it with a grin, in which case he would probably relent and
let her go: or--? The field of alternative conjecture was wide.
In the end Laura, whose knee was still aching from her adventure
with the chair, decided to chance it. But--perhaps because they
were suffused with irritation--the words had no sooner left her
lips than she regretted them.

"I won't have it." Bernard's heavy jaw was clenched like a
bloodhound's. "It's not decent running after Hyde while I'm tied
here by the leg. I won't have you set all the village talking.
There's the Times on my table. Stop. Where are you going?"

"To ring the bell. It's time Miller started. You don't want your
cousin to find no one there to meet him--not even a cart for his
luggage."

"He can walk. Do him good: and Miller can fetch the luggage
afterwards. You do as I tell you. Take the Times. Sit down in
that chair with your face to the light and read me the leading
articles and the rest of the news on Page 7. Don't gabble: read