I rose and strolled to the Club-house, to see the steward….
This day was the sixteenth of April, and Summer was coming in. Under our very eyes, plain, woods and foothills were putting on amain her lovely livery. We had played a full round of golf over a blowing valley we hardly knew. Billowy emerald banks masked the familiar sparkle of the hurrying Gave; the fine brown lace of rising woods had disappeared, and, in its stead, a broad hanging terrace of delicate green stood up against the sky; from being a jolly counterpane, the plain of Billère itself had become a cheerful quilt; as for the foot-hills, they were so monstrously tricked out with fine fresh ruffles and unexpected equipage of greenery, with a strange epaulet upon that shoulder and a brand-new periwig upon that brow, that if high hills but hopped outside the Psalter you would have sworn the snowy Pyrenees had found new equerries.
Luncheon was served indoors.
Throughout the winter the lawn before the Club-house had made a dining-room. To-day, however, we were glad of the shade.
"Does Piers know," said Adèle, "that he's coming home with us?"
Jill shook her head.
"Not yet. I meant to tell him in my last letter, but I forgot." She turned to Daphne. "You don't think we could be married at once? I'm sure Piers wouldn't mind, and I'd be so much easier. He does want looking after, you know. Fancy his wanting to leave off that belt thing."
"Yes, just fancy," said Berry. "Apart from the fact that it was a present from you, it'd be indecent."
"It isn't that," said Jill. "But he might get an awful chill."
"I know," said Berry. "I know. That's my second point. Keep the abdominal wall quarter of an inch deep in lamb's wool, and in the hottest weather you'll never feel cold. Never mind. If he mentions it again, we'll make its retention a term of the marriage settlement."