She had a
melancholy wistful little face: her head was inclined with a backward
slope on her neck, and her mouth was invariably a little open shewing
long front teeth, so that she looked rather like a roast hare sent up
to table with its head on. Georgie always had a joke ready for Miss
Lyall, of the sort that made her say, "Oh, Mr Pillson!" and caused her
to blush. She thought him remarkably pleasant.
Georgie had his joke ready on this occasion.
"Why, here's Miss Lyall!" he said. "And what has Miss Lyall been doing
while her ladyship and I have been talking? Better not ask, perhaps."
"Oh, Mr Pillson!" said Miss Lyall, as punctually as a cuckoo clock when
the hands point to the hour.
Lady Ambermere put half her weight onto the step of the motor, causing
it to creak and sway.
"Call on the Shuttleworths, Georgie," she said. "Say I told you to.
Home!"
Miss Lyall effaced herself on the front seat of the motor, like a mouse
hiding in a corner, after Lady Ambermere had got in, and the footman
mounted onto the box. At that moment Peppino with his bag of bulbs, a
little out of breath, squeezed his way between two cabs by the side of
the motor. He was just too late, and the motor moved off. It was very
improbable that Lady Ambermere saw him at all.
Georgie felt very much like a dog with a bone in his mouth, who only
wants to get away from all the other dogs and discuss it quietly.
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