“You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. John knew everybody, it seemed. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. “I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. "I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir. She wasn’t well-liked really, I think people were jealous of her.
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