It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. Jack looked towards the door. She listened, listened intently for several minutes. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. At last he could bear it no longer. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. ‘Jacques?’ she called. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. Something to tell you. Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner.
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