Raymond was the next comer, but he did not much conduce to chattiness. He looked heavy-eyed and sulky, only grunted in response to her salutation, and immured himself behind the Daily Mail. Lady Hester made one further attempt at sociability, and asked him if he had slept well, but as he had nothing to add to his “No, not very,” she considered herself free from any further obligation.
Then there came a very welcome addition to his grievous company, for Colin entered through the door that opened on to the terrace. Flannel trousers, coat and shirt open at the neck was all his costume, and there was a bathing towel over his shoulder.
“Morning, Aunt Hester,” he said. “Morning, Raymond.”
He paused in order to make quite sure that Raymond made no response, and sat down next his aunt.
“Been bathing,” he said. “Hottest morning that ever was. Why didn’t you come, too, Aunt Hester? You’d look like a water-nymph. I say, what a nice hat! Whom are you going to reduce to despair? Hullo, three letters!”
“How many of them are love-letters?” asked Aunt Hester archly.
“All, of course,” said Colin. “There’s one from Cambridge.”
“That’ll be the young woman in the tobacconist’s shop whom you told us about,” began Aunt Hester.
“Sh!” said Colin, nodding towards Raymond. “Sore subject.”
Raymond, pushing back his chair, could not control himself from casting one furious glance at Colin, and went out.