Into the thinning, whispering circle came General Sir Gerald Seymour Stukeley, apoplectically angry.

Some silly fool, he understood, had fainted or something--probably a puling tight-laced fool of a woman who starved herself to keep slim.

People who wanted to faint should stay and do it at home--not come creating disturbances and interruptions at Monksmead garden-parties....
And then he saw a couple of young men and Lucille striving to raise the recumbent body of a man.

The General snorted as snorts the wart-hog in love and war, or the graceful hippopotamus in the river.
"What the Devil's all this ?" he growled.

"Some poor fella fainted with the exertions of putting ?" A most bitter old gentleman.
Lucille turned to him and his fierce gaze fell upon the pale, contorted, and tear-stained face of Dam.
The General flushed an even deeper purple, and the stick he held perpendicularly slowly rose to horizontal, though he did not raise his hand.
He made a loud but wholly inarticulate sound.
Haddon Berners, enjoying himself hugely, volunteered the information.
"He saw a little grass-snake and yelled out.