Dad didn't say much; he just listened and sized up the layout.

Then he led us through the vestibule into the drawing-room.

And I knew, from the look of him, that we would get his verdict straight.
But it was a relief not to see his finger-tips together.
"Perry Potter wrote me something of all this," he observed, settling himself comfortably in his pet chair.

"He said this young cub needed looking after, or King--your father, Mrs.Carleton--would have him by the heels.

I thought I'd better come and see what particular brand of--er-- "As for the motor, I might make shift to take it back myself, seeing Potter hasn't got a rig here to meet me.