Miss Fairbrother laughed.
"The grass there is greener than anywhere else on the river, the water's clearer, and the swans are whiter," said George.
"How do you get there?"
The secretary laid down his pen and paused to consider.
"There's Waterloo," he said—"trains rather stuffy and porters grumpy. Then there's a waggonette from Piccadilly—horses bony and seats rickety. Then there's——"
"I don't think I'll go," said Miss Fairbrother.
"I should," said George. "The boat from Westminster is very comfortable. You can get lunch on board, and it's really a most delightful trip."
Miss Fairbrother was silent for a moment. "No," she said slowly; "I don't think I'll go."
George turned round and winked at a bookcase, then rose slowly and walked to the window, where Miss Fairbrother stood watching the sunlit surface of the river.
"There's a sudden slackness of orders to-day," he said. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a day off myself and go on the river."