Wolf declared himself completely satisfied at this prospect.

“You go up now, sweetheart,” he said, “and finish dressing, and make the bed. I’ll wash up. I’ll just have time for that. There, do go quick! I don’t want anyone to knock at the door and find you like that. We’ve got to keep up the prestige of Preston Lane!”

He spoke jestingly, but there was an element of concern at the back of his mind. He had had some uncomfortable moments now and again, when tradesmen’s boys had come to the door at an early hour. He hated to think of their ménage being a laughingstock to all the Lob Torps and Bob Weevils of the town.

It was a complete puzzle to him the way in which Gerda made such a fuss about the conventions where his mother was concerned, while to the Bob Weevils of the place she let down every barrier as completely as if she’d drifted into Blacksod from the primeval woods of Arcady.