The Brother of Daphne

In a few telling sentences I intimated that I would do nothing of the kind.

"I will appear," I said at last, "I will appear and run round generally, but I promise nothing more."

"Nonsense," said my sister. "I have promised, and I'm not going to let you break my word. You are going to do something definite."

"Desperate?"

"Definite. You have three days in which to get ready. There's Jill calling me. We're going to run over to Barley to whip up the Ashton crowd. D'you think we've enough petrol?"

"I don't even care," said I.

Daphne laughed softly. Then: "I must go," she said, getting up. "Give me a cigarette and tell me if you think this dress'll do. I'm going to change my shoes."

"If," said I, producing my cigarette-case, "if you were half as nice as you invariably look- "

"That's a dear," she said, taking a cigarette. "And now, good-bye."

I watched her retreating figure gloomily.

Berry began to recite 'We are Seven.'

Thursday morning broke cloudless and brillia