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That evening Stephen rang up The Grange. “Is that Upton 25? It’s Miss Gordon speaking⁠—no, no, Miss Gordon, speaking from Morton. How is Mrs. Crossby and how is the dog? I hope Mrs. Crossby’s hand isn’t very painful? Yes, of course I’ll hold on while you go and inquire.” She felt shy, yet unusually daring.

Presently the butler came back and said gravely that Mrs. Crossby had just seen the doctor and had now gone to bed, as her hand was aching, but that Tony felt better and sent his love. He added: “Madam says would you come to tea on Sunday? She’d be very glad indeed if you would.”

And Stephen answered: “Will you thank Mrs. Crossby and tell her that I’ll certainly come on Sunday.” Then she gave the message all over again, very slowly, with pauses. “Will⁠—you thank⁠—Mrs. Crossby⁠—and tell her⁠—I’ll certainly come⁠—on Sunday. Do you quite understand. Have I made it quite clear? Say I’m coming to tea on Sunday.”