If anyone did, he and she politely suppressed a doubtful look and applauded the suggestion of a fortune-telling expedition.
"Let us make up a party and go," said the hostess, only too thankful to find something to amuse the house-party for a few hours.

"Where did you say the gypsies were, Garvington ?" "In the Abbot's Wood," replied her husband, a fat, small round-faced man, who was methodically devouring a large breakfast.
"That's only three miles away.

We can drive or ride." "Or motor, or bicycle, or use Shanks' mare," remarked Miss Greeby rather vulgarly.

Not that any one minded such a speech from her, as her vulgarity was merely regarded as eccentricity, because she had money and brains, an exceedingly long tongue, and a memory of other people's failings to match.
Lord Garvington made no reply, as breakfast, in his opinion, was much too serious a business to be interrupted.

He reached for the marmalade, and requested that a bowl of Devonshire cream should be passed along.
His wife, who was lean and anxious-looking even for an August hostess, looked at him wrathfully.