In this way those in the drawing-room babbled, while Agnes stared into the fire, bracing herself to encounter Lambert, who would surely arrive within the next two or three days, and while Miss Greeby savagely rebuked herself for having so foolishly intimated her departure.  Then the men straggled in from their wine, and bridge became the order of the night with some, while others begged for music.  After a song or so and the execution of a Beethoven sonata, to which no one paid any attention, a young lady gave a dance after the manner of Maud Allan, to which everyone attended.  Then came feats of strength, in which Miss Greeby proved herself to be a female Sandow, and later a number of the guests sojourned to the billiard-room to play.  When they grew weary of that, tobogganing down the broad staircase on trays was suggested and indulged in amidst shrieks of laughter.  Afterwards, those heated by this horse-play strayed on to the terrace to breathe the fresh air, and flirt in the moonlight.  In fact, every conceivable way of passing the time was taken advantage of by these very bored people, who scarcely knew how to get through the long evening.

“They seem to be enjoying themselves, Freddy,” said Lady Garvington to her husband, when she drifted against him in the course of attending to her guests.  “I really think they find this jolly.”

“I don’t care a red copper what they find,” retorted the little man, who was looking worried, and not quite his usual self.  “I wish the whole lot would get out of the house.  I’m sick of them.”

“Ain’t you well, Freddy?  I knew that Patagonian soup was too rich for you.”

“Oh, the soup was all right—­ripping soup,” snorted Freddy, smacking his lips over the recollection.  “But I’m bothered over Pine.”

“He isn’t ill, is he?” questioned Lady Garvington anxiously.  She liked her brother-in-law, who was always kind to her.

“No, hang him; nothing worse than his usual lung trouble, I suppose.  But he is in Paris, and won’t answer my letters.”

“Letters, Freddy dear.”

“Yes, Jane dear,” he mocked.  “Hang it, I want money, and he won’t stump up.  I can’t even get an answer.”

“Speak to Mr. Silver.”

“Damn Mr. Silver!”

“Well, I’m sure, Frederick, you needn’t swear at me,” said poor, wan Lady Garvington, drawing herself up.  “Mr. Silver is very kind.  He went to that gypsy camp and found out how they cook hedgehog.  That will be a new dish for you, dear.  You haven’t eaten hedgehog.”

“No.  And what’s more, I don’t intend to eat it.  But you may as well tell me how these gypsies cook it,” and Freddy listened with both his red ears to the description, on hearing which he decided that his wife might instruct the cook how to prepare the animal.  “But no one will eat it but me.”

Lady Garvington shuddered.  “I shan’t touch it myself.  Those horrid snails you insisted on being cooked a week ago made me quite ill.  You are always trying new experiments, Freddy.”