Deane hastily interposed.
“Haven’t we had enough of this dreary subject?” he asked, and he frowned slightly at Laing.
“Isn’t it about time for coffee?” the General suggested.
Deane looked at his watch.
“What does the time matter, Deane, if we’re ready?”
“Not a bit. 2.20. That’s all right,” and he rang the bell.
Painter came in with the coffee: the little man looked rather pale and nervous, but succeeded in serving the company without upsetting the cups. He came to Deane last.
“Is everything ready?” whispered that gentleman, and receiving a trembling “Yes, sir,” he added, “in ten minutes.”
“This,” he observed out loud, “has been a pleasant gathering—a pleasant end to our outing.”
“What? You’re going?” asked Miss Bussey.