"I am afraid this tea will be cold," Waddy meanwhile had suggested to Dorothy.
"Yes, do take it down to mamma, Mr. Brunetti. And take this shawl too, won't you?"
"Aren't you coming?" said Waddy, in a discomfited voice, as, shawl in one hand and teacup in the other, he stood waiting.
"In five minutes; I have taken a fancy for spending just five minutes in that big yellow chair."
"That is wise; I'm very pleased to hear you say it," remarked Nora, who, though dispossessed, still lingered near. "We come up here, stay awhile, and then go away; but you are kept on your feet for three or four hours at a time."
"You don't go away, do you, Nora?" said Felicia. "You are so kind. I dare say you have been here since noon?"
"The samovar—" began Nora.
"Dear samovar!" commented Felicia, smiling.
And then Nora, at last understanding the sarcasm of the tone, left the table and crossed the room, her cheeks no longer colorless. Alan Mackenzie, who had heard this little dialogue, thought that the two ladies had been very kind to each other.
Mrs. Tracy, on her way back from the anteroom, whither she had gone to escort Julian Grimston's mother, who was taking leave, now stopped at the tea-table. She drew Felicia aside. "Stay and dine with us, won't you? We are always tired on Saturday evenings, and it will be delightful to hear you sing. The carriage shall take you home."