"Yes, I remember Miss Murison; and so you are glad her reign has come to an end, Eve? Well, I suppose it is natural."
She nodded her pretty head.
"Just a little, Philip. But how tired you look! Will you have some tea? I suppose you have just come from Blackpool?"
His face darkened suddenly, and the smile for a moment died away.
"No," he said shortly, "I have been in the Park."
"Well," she remarked after a moment, "you must have some tea, anyhow. Of course you will wait and see mamma; she has gone to the Dollonds' 'at home,' you know. I an all alone. If you like, we will have it in here, as we did in the old days—a regular schoolroom tea."
"It will be charming," said Rainham, seating himself; "it will only want the Murison to complete the illusion."
"Oh, it will do just as well without her," said Eve, laughing; "ring the bell, please."
Rainham sat back watching her with far-away eyes, as she moved lightly about, giving her orders with a childish imperiousness, and setting out the little tea-table between them.
"It is delightful," he said again, when they were once more alone and he had accepted a well-creamed cup and a waferlike tartine; "and I feel as if I had turned back several years. But how is it, by-the-bye, that you have not gone to the Dollonds'?"