"
"You are young for a philosopher," said Joan.
He laughed. "I told you I'd be all right if you started me on China," he
said.
"Why are you marrying. Flossie?" Joan asked him. She thought his point
of view would be interesting.
"Not sure I am yet," he answered with a grin. "It depends upon how I get
through this evening." He glanced round the room. "Have I got to pass
all this crowd, I wonder?" he added.
Joan's eyes followed. It was certainly an odd collection. Flossie, in
her hunt for brains, had issued her invitations broadcast; and her fate
had been that of the Charity concert. Not all the stars upon whom she
had most depended had turned up. On the other hand not a single freak
had failed her. At the moment, the centre of the room was occupied by a
gentleman and two ladies in classical drapery. They were holding hands
in an attitude suggestive of a bas-relief. Joan remembered them, having
seen them on one or two occasions wandering in the King's Road, Chelsea;
still maintaining, as far as the traffic would allow, the bas-relief
suggestion; and generally surrounded by a crowd of children, ever hopeful
that at the next corner they would stop and do something really
interesting.
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