"There's somebody smoking," said the Countess angrily. There was a crowd of men smoking out on the verandah. "I never knew anything so nasty," the Countess continued, leaving it in doubt whether she spoke of the rain, or the smoke, or the party generally.
Damp gauzes, splashed stockings, trampled muslins, and features which have perhaps known something of rouge and certainly encountered something of rain may be made, but can only, by supreme high breeding, be made compatible with good-humour. To be moist, muddy, rumpled and smeared, when by the very nature of your position it is your duty to be clear-starched up to the pellucidity of crystal, to be spotless as the lily, to be crisp as the ivy-leaf, and as clear in complexion as a rose,—is it not, O gentle readers, felt to be a disgrace? It came to pass, therefore, that many were now very cross. Carriages were ordered under the idea that some improvement might be made at the inn which was nearly a mile distant. Very few, however, had their own carriages, and there was jockeying for the vehicles. In the midst of all this Silverbridge remained as near to Miss Boncassen as circumstances would admit. "You are not waiting for me," she said.
"Yes, I am. We might as well go up to town together."
"Leave me with father and mother. Like the captain of a ship, I must be the last to leave the wreck."
"But I'll be the gallant sailor of the day who always at the risk of his life sticks to the skipper to the last moment."
"Not at all;—just because there will be no gallantry. But come and see us to-morrow and find out whether we have got through it alive."
CHAPTER XXXIII
The Langham Hotel
"What an abominable climate," Mrs. Boncassen had said when they were quite alone at Maidenhead.