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Updated: May 17, 2025
Aunt Philippa replied in the measured accents habitual to her. "Nothing has happened. I have been to Sandacre Court, at Mrs. Pouncefort's invitation, to see the gardens. I waited for you, Chris, for nearly an hour this morning, but you did not see fit either to come to me or to send any word of explanation to account for your absence. Therefore I started late. Hence my late return."
Pouncefort's garden-party was an annual affair of some importance to which everyone, from the County downwards, was bidden, and from which very few absented themselves. The Pouncefort entertainments were generally upon a lavish scale, were also largely attended by the military element of Sandacre society, and were invariably described in the local journals as "very smart affairs."
We shall meet the wind now, and Chris must come in front; it is more sheltered." Chris submitted to this arrangement in silence. She was looking very tired. Her husband regarded her keenly as he tucked her in, but he said nothing. "What do you think of Mrs. Pouncefort's latest?" grinned Noel, as they spun along the high-road. "I never met such a facetious brute in my life.
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