‘We’re having Manhattans,’ said Mrs Riley. ‘Oh . . .’ said Daphne, not quite looking at either of them, but crossing the room with a good-tempered expression. She still felt distinctly odd, like the subject of an experiment, whenever she came into the ‘new’ drawing-room; and having Mrs Riley herself in the room only made her feel odder. ‘Should we wait for Mother and Clara?’ ‘Oh, I don’t know . . .’ said Dudley. ‘Eva looked thirsty.’ Mrs Riley gave her quick smoky laugh. ‘How do you know Mrs . . . um – ?’ she said. ‘Mrs Kalbeck? She was our neighbour in Middlesex,’ said Daphne, making a moody survey of the bottles on the tray; and though she loved Manhattans, and had loved Manhattan itself, when they’d gone there for Dudley’s book, she set about mixing herself a gin and Dubonnet. Mrs Riley said, ‘She seems rather . . . um . . .’ making a game of her own malice. ‘Yes, she’s a dear,’ said Daphne. ‘She’s certainly an enormous asset at a house party,’ said Dudley.
