knew well enough that it was only because Bob was a bishop’s son and she the privileged child of the most powerful family in the Remuera set that they were greeted with the effusive and deferential politeness that so irritated her. She was furious to think she would have to sit there with them when she craved to be on the beach.
And then she saw as she sat down that nearly every woman present looked as soon as she could at her left hand to see if there was an engagement ring upon it. The poor souls did not know it but that completed their utter nonentity as far as she was concerned. She did like Mrs. Benton, who was a very attractive woman, but she could not forgive her all in a minute for imposing the rest of Dargaville upon her. Bob did his level best to counteract the difficult atmosphere she created, and he was as thankful as she was when the visitors finally rose to go. They were no sooner away than the Benton children invaded the verandah, five of them, and Valerie instantly became another person.
“Would you like to come on the beach?” asked Marjorie, looking up at her confidently.
“Indeed I would. That is just what I have been wishing to do all the afternoon. I wonder why it is that children and dogs are the only things that ever know what I want.”
“Really, Val,” protested Bob indignantly.
She turned to Mrs. Benton with an irresistible smile and gesture. “Mrs. Benton, I’ve been abominably rude. But I may as well do it once and be done with it. I loathe social entertainment, and I haven’t fought my family for years on the subject to come here and begin all over again. Of course you have to be nice to everybody. That is the price you pay for being married to a parliamentary candidate. But I’m not, you see.”
