And"-- smiling faintly--"you're rather grubby just at present." "I suppose I am." He glanced ruefully down at his mud-bespattered coat.

"I oughtn't to have come in here like this," he added with an awkward attempt at apology.

"Only I couldn't wait to see you." "Well, go and have your tub and a change," she said, with a small, indulgent laugh.

"And by dinner time you'll have a better opinion of your outward man." It was not until after dinner that she mentioned the concerto to him, snatching an opportunity when they chanced to find themselves alone for a few minutes.

Some distracted young married woman from the village had called to ask Lady Gertrude's advice as to how she should deal with a husband who seemed to find his chief entertainment in life in beating her with a broomstick and in threatening to "do her in" altogether if the application of the broomstick proved barren of wifely improvement.
Accordingly, Lady Gertrude, accompanied by her aide-de-camp, Isobel, were interviewing the poor, terrified creature with a view to ameliorating her lot.
"It's good, Roger," said Nan, when she had told him that the concerto was finished.