Mrs. Byrne was really thinking, “I wish he wouldn’t drink so many⁠—horrid, strong stuff.”

And she saw that, though her husband was being so pleasant and kind to the two old ladies, he was looking most of the time at Muriel Tarrant, the pretty girl in the corner beyond him, who was talking to John Egerton, and blushing prettily about something.

Margery Byrne said to herself, “I am not jealous,” and looked away.