"Not another!" exclaims the little old lady in a horrified tone. "Why, you have had three already!"
"My dear Trevie, let me inform you once and for all that I have abandoned my figure. Why should I persist in the struggle now that Anita refuses to smile on me? When one's heart is broken, one had better make the most of the few pleasures one can still enjoy. So another cup, please."
Anita took no notice of his sally; her eyes were fixed on the distant horizon; she seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.
"By the way," remarked Campbell casually as he sipped his tea, "I spent last Sunday at Geralton." He watched Anita furtively. A faint flutter of the eyelids was the only indication she gave of having heard him, yet Guy was convinced that she was waiting breathlessly for him to continue.
"How is Lord Wilmersley?" asked Miss Trevor with kindly indifference.
"Very well indeed. He is doing a lot to the castle. You would hardly know it—the interior, I mean." Although he had pointedly addressed Anita, she made no comment. It was only after a long silence that she finally spoke.
"And how is Valdriguez?" she inquired.
"Much the same. She plays all day long with the dolls Cyril bought for her. She seems quite happy."
Again they relapsed into silence.
Miss Trevor took up her knitting, which had been lying in her lap, and was soon busy avoiding the pitfalls a heel presents to the unwary.