“It takes a great deal of bad weather to depress the true Parisian,” Anna admitted.
“A volatile temperament—yes, a volatile temperament,” Mr. Bullding repeated, rather struck with the phrase. “It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly.”
Anna nodded and turned again to Courtlaw.
“I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. Bullding,” she declared. “I believe that he would bore me. Tell me, what are these bananas and nuts for?”
“Dessert.”
Anna laid down her serviette.
“Let us escape,” she said. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me.”
Brendon laughed softly.
“We can,” he said, “and we will. But it is only fair to warn you that it isn’t expected. Mrs. White is proud of her drawing-room evenings. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy.”
Anna hesitated no longer. She almost sprang to her feet. Conscious of Mrs. White’s surprise as she swung easily down the room, followed by the two young men, she smiled a careless explanation at her.