"After all," he said to Nevitt, as they walked together from the
club in Piccadilly, "I may as well see what the girl's like, anyhow.
If she's got to be my sister-in-law--which seems not unlikely now--I'd
better have a look at her beforehand, so to speak, on approbation."
The Holkers' grounds were large and well planted, with velvety lawns
on the slope of a well-wooded hill overlooking the boundless blue
weald of Surrey. Nevitt and the Warings were late to arrive, and
found most of the guests already assembled before them.
After a time Guy found himself, to his intense chagrin, told off by
his hostess to do the honours to an amiable old lady of high tonnage
and great conversational powers, who rattled on uninterruptedly in
one silvery stream about everybody on the ground, their histories
and their pedigrees. She took the talking so completely off his
hands, however, that, after a very few minutes, Guy, who was by
nature of a lazy and contemplative disposition, had almost ceased
to trouble himself about what she said, interposing "indeeds" and
"reallys" with automatic politeness at measured intervals; when
suddenly the old lady, coming upon a bench where a mother and
daughter were seated in the shade, settled down by their sides in
a fervour of welcome, and shook hands with them both effusively in
a most demonstrative fashion.
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