"Done all my packing already! Isn't that virtue?" Alwynne was intent on her pensioners. "Oh, Roger—look! There's a cuckoo. I'm sure it's a cuckoo. Jean says they come right on to the lawn sometimes. I've always wanted to see one. Look! The big dark blue one."
"Starling," said Roger shortly, and sat himself down. "First day I've known you punctual," he continued sourly.
"I'm going home," cried Alwynne. "I'm going home! Do you know I've been away seven weeks? It's queer that I haven't been homesick, isn't it?"
"Is it?" said Roger blankly.
"So, of course, I'm awfully excited," she continued, coming to the table. "Oh, Roger! In six hours I shall see Clare!"
"Congratulations!" He gulped down some coffee.
Alwynne looked at him, mildly surprised at his taciturnity.
"I've had a lovely time," she remarked wistfully. "You've all been so good to me."
Roger brightened.
"The Dears are such dears," continued Alwynne with enthusiasm. "I've never had such a glorious time. It only wanted Clare to make it quite perfect. And Elsbeth, of course."