She had to wear cream and a brown sash and a short frock and her hair down, and Gwen cream and a brown sash and a long skirt and her hair up. Hill closed his eyes. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. Miraculously, her schoolmates were so upswept in their own summer planning that they had no time to interrogate her. The day is already half over. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. “It might be a policeman borrowing the driveway and looking out for speeders.
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