The day being hot, George had arrayed his long and meagre body in white flannel. The conformation of his large grey moustache and his apologetic blue eyes gave him the appearance of rather a meek kind of walrus—one that would feed from the hand and do trust-and-paid-for. He reposed himself after luncheon in a large deck-chair on the veranda. He held between his teeth an amber tube with a cigarette in it. He had a box of matches in one hand, and intended to light the cigarette when he felt more rested. In the meantime he nursed a straw hat, and watched Miss Caterham's wise and just restraint of a climbing geranium. Miss Caterham, in the intervals of her work, watched George, with a glance which indicated rapidly increasing displeasure. The fire kindled, and at last she spake with her tongue.
"I am extremely sorry, George, but I simply cannot stand it any longer. Will you kindly either light that cigarette or throw it away."
"I was just about to light it, Jane. This weather, especially after luncheon, invests one's actions with a certain amount of deliberation."
"If you showed as much deliberation about your words, George, as you do about your actions, it would be better for everybody."
George's astonishment was such that he let out the match which he had just lit. "Oh, really, Jane, I wasn't conscious of having said anything particular."
"It's not what you said now, it's what you said at luncheon. If you don't strike another match and light that cigarette, I shall have to go."
George followed his instructions obediently. "At luncheon?" he said meditatively. "Don't seem to remember having said anything particular at luncheon either. While I'm here, I'm always careful to avoid politics."
"So long as you follow blindly the foes of your own country, that is just as well. The treacherous and unpatriotic duffers, with whom you have chosen to ally yourself——"
"Yes," said George. "You're perfectly right. It's much better to avoid politics. But what did I say at luncheon?"
"Ruth was there."