platforms and talk a lot of junk, or kiss dirty babies in Bermondsey. Come and have a cocktail. It’s nearly lunch time.”
Bundle got up and walked by his side obediently.
“And I do so hate politics,” she murmured piteously.
“Of course you do. So do all sensible people. It’s only people like Codders and Pongo who take them seriously and revel in them. But all the same,” said Bill, reverting suddenly to a former point, “you oughtn’t to let Codders hold your hand.”
“Why on earth not?” said Bundle. “He’s known me all my life.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Virtuous William—Oh, I say, look at Superintendent Battle.”
They were just passing in through a side door. A cupboard-like room opened out of the little hallway. In it were kept golf clubs, tennis racquets, bowls and other features of country house life. Superintendent Battle was conducting a minute examination of various golf clubs. He looked up a little sheepishly at Bundle’s exclamation.
“Going to take up golf, Superintendent Battle?”
“I might do worse, Lady Eileen. They say it’s never too late to start. And I’ve got one good quality that will tell at any game.”
“What’s that?” asked Bill.
“I don’t know when I’m beaten. If everything goes wrong, I turn to and start again!”
And with a determined look on his face, Superintendent Battle came out and joined them, shutting the door behind him.