“We’re going to drink the boy’s health before he goes, and—and to a speedy and victorious return. From Berlin, eh, Cecil?”
He poured out the wine himself, grasping the backs of the chairs as he went heavily and laboriously round the great mahogany table.
Then, regaining his own place, the old man drew himself up with difficulty to his full height, and raised a brimming glass.
“Here’s to your very good health, Cecil, and a safe and speedy return.”
Lady Aviolet sipped at her glass, but the next moment she had raised her handkerchief to her eyes.
“A safe and speedy return, Cecil,” echoed Diana, very white.
But Rose Aviolet lifted her glass with a steady hand and looked full at Cecil, her brown eyes shining: “Here’s luck, Ces!”
Then she turned to Sir Thomas and said softly: “Thank you.”
The old man had spilt half the port from his glass on to the front of his shirt, and he was gazing down at the spreading stain, grumbling and muttering.
“Hand so infernally unsteady, now-a-days; no doing anything.”