‘A Miss Pendlebury. Christian name, Gwladys. She spells it with a “w”.’ ‘With a “g”, you mean.’ ‘With a “w” and a “g”.’ ‘Not Gwladys?’ ‘That’s it.’ The relative uttered a yowl. ‘You sit there and tell me you haven’t enough sense to steer clear of a girl who calls herself Gwladys? Listen, Bertie,’ said Aunt Dahlia earnestly, ‘I’m an older woman than you are – well, you know what I mean – and I can tell you a thing or two. And one of them is that no good can come of association with anything labelled Gwladys or Ysobel or Ethyl or Mabelle or Kathryn. But particularly Gwladys. What sort of girl is
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