(Brief interval during which the waiter does much unnecessary laying out of the tea until Honoria says:  “Don’t let me keep you.  I know you are busy at this time.  I will ring if we want anything.”) David continues:  “Of course I come in for my share of the work after six.  On one point Beryl is firm; she doesn’t mind coming at nine or at eight or at half-past seven in the morning, but she must be back in Chelsea by half-past five to see her babies, wash them and put them to bed.  She has a tiny little house, she tells me, near Trafalgar Square, and fortunately she’s got an excellent and devoted nurse, one of those rare treasures that questions nothing and is only interested in the business in hand.  She and a cook-general make up the establishment.  Before Mrs. Architect No. 1 became ill, Mr. Architect used to visit her there pretty regularly, and is assumed to be Mr. Claridge....  Well:  to finish up about Beryl:  I think you—­we—­can trust her.  She may be odd in her notions of morality, but in finance or business she’s as honest—­as—­a man.”

“My dear Vivie—­I mean David—­what a strange thing for you to say!  I suppose it is part of your make-up—­goes with the clothes and that turn-over collar, and the little safety pin through the tie—?”

David:  “No, I said it deliberately.  Men are mostly hateful things, but I think in business they’re more dependable than women—­think more about telling a lie or letting any one down.  The point for you to seize on is this—­if you haven’t noticed it already:  that Beryl has become an uncommonly good business woman.  And what’s more, my dear, you’ve improved her just as you improved me” (Honoria deprecates this with a gesture, as she sits looking into the fire).  “Beryl’s talk is getting ever so much less reckless.  And she takes jolly good care not to scandalize a client.  She finds Adams—­she tells me—­so severe at the least jest or personality that she only talks to him now on business matters, and finds him a great stand-by; and the other day she told Miss A.—­as you call the senior clerk—­she ought to be ashamed of herself, bringing in a copy of the Vie Parisienne.  The way she settled Mrs. Gordon’s affairs—­you remember, No. 3875 you catalogued the case—­was masterly; and Mrs. G. has insisted on paying 5 per cent. commission on the recovered property.  And it was Beryl who found out that leakage in the ‘Variegated Tea Rooms’ statement of accounts.  I hadn’t spotted it.  No.  I think we needn’t be anxious about Beryl, especially whilst I am in Wales and you are giving yourself up—­as you ought to do—­to your mother.  But it’s coming to this, Honoria—­” (Enter waiter.  David says “Oh, damn,” half audibly.  Waiter is confirmed in his suspicions, but as he likes Honoria immensely resolves to say nothing about them in the Steward’s room.  She is such a kind young lady.  He explains he has come to take the tea things away, and Honoria