Tooting West, pledged to kiss babies and make speeches. You don’t know how thorough Codders is and how frightfully energetic.”
“Well, we’ll have to risk that,” said Bundle. “Jimmy can take care of himself all right.”
“You don’t know Codders,” repeated Bill.
“Who’s coming to this party, Bill? Is it anything very special?”
“Only the usual sort of muck. Mrs. Macatta for one.”
“The M.P. ?”
“Yes, you know, always going off the deep end about Welfare and Pure Milk and Save the Children. Think of poor Jimmy being talked to by her.”
“Never mind Jimmy. Go on telling me.”
“Then there’s a Hungarian, what they call a Young Hungarian. Countess something unpronounceable. She’s all right.”
He swallowed as though embarrassed, and Bundle observed that he was crumbling his bread nervously.
“Young and beautiful?” she inquired delicately.
“Oh, rather.”
“I didn’t know George went in for female beauty much.”
“Oh, he doesn’t. She runs baby feeding in Budapest—something like that. Naturally she and Mrs. Macatta want to get together.”
“Who else?”
“Sir Stanley Digby—”