Before we had time to ring, a trim parlour-maid appeared.
"Mrs.Boyce is not at home, sir." Marigold, who, when my convenience was in question, swept away social conventions like cobwebs, fixed her with his one eye, and before I could interfere, said: "I'm afraid you're mistaken.

I've just seen Major Boyce and Madam on the lawn." The maid reddened and looked at me appealingly.
"My orders were to say not at home, sir." "I quite understand, Mary," said I."Major Boyce is home on short leave, and they don't want to be disturbed.

Isn't that it ?" "Yes, sir." "Marigold," said I."Right about turn." Marigold, who had stopped the car, got out unwillingly and went to the starting-handle.

That I should be refused admittance to a house which I had deigned to honour with my presence he regarded as an intolerable insult.

He also loved to have tea, as a pampered guest, in other folks' houses.