He carried his invitation card in his hand.
"What game are you at now ?" he demanded.
"Oh, I say, Doctor, keep it quiet! You'll come, won't you?
There'll be a tidy spread--enough to go all round; and the Duke and his lot are coming, and we expect the Grenadiers." "Doctor," said Jill, "we shall depend on you so much.

Do come early!" Dr Brandram drove back to Yeld in a dazed condition of mind.

He was tempted to telegraph to the Duke and the county generally; to set a body of police to prevent any one entering the Maxfield gates; to shut the two miscreants up in the coal-cellar; to run away, and not return till next week.
But after an hysterical consultation with himself, he decided that it was too late to do anything but cast in his lot with the other victims, and go dressed in all his best to Miss Oliphant's "At Home," and do what he could to steer her and her graceless brother out of their predicament.
As the fateful hour approached, Tom began to be a little nervous.

He had not anticipated the vast number of small details demanding his personal attention.
For instance, there was the cooking of the herrings.

Jill had nobly undertaken that task at the drawing-room fire, which was the most capacious.