Diana, in a mood for merriment, and possibly to cover a certain invisible shadow that rested as a dim cloud upon the party, rouged her face to a brilliant red with an alarmingly fiery nose end. When she lifted her veil and confronted her aunt with a perfectly unconcerned smile, that lady raised her hands in horror and bemoaning. "O, my dear!... my dear!... your complexion is ruined. How could you be so careless? How could Meryl let you?... It will take weeks of care to undo the mischief."
"O, don't make a fuss, aunty! Complexions don't matter tuppence-halfpenny in Rhodesia. You surely didn't imagine I was going to carry a sun-umbrella about, did you?"
"But my dear child!..." still in great distress. "It is a dreadful thing to say, but you really look as if ... as if ..." but there her courage forsook her, and she could not name the dreadful possibility.
"As if I had been drinking!" finished Diana cheerfully. "Yes, it's a little awkward, but perhaps if I don't lurch or look foolish ..." Then she encountered the astonished eyes of a young footman, who had come in with some small paraphernalia from the motor, and unable to keep her face, turned hurriedly away.
"I'm rather afraid James is going to have a fit," she remarked to Meryl. "I hope it won't incapacitate him for the rest of the day," and she chuckled to herself. Meryl had not yet raised her veil, and the anxiety on Aunt Emily's face, which she vainly strove to hide, was delighting Diana more than ever. "Better not take your veil off downstairs, Meryl. Aunt Emily has had rather a shock from my face; I don't think she could bear any more."
But the poor lady's concern was too pitiful to Meryl, and she threw her veil far back, saying, "She is a wicked creature, aunty. Her face only wants washing"; and then Aunt Emily, reassured and comforted, joined in the general laugh.
"But soap and water won't remedy all the defects," Diana told her. "I've acquired a violent dislike to houses and rooms and tableclothes and clean hands, and all the absurd paraphernalia of civilised existence. Of course, I suppose I shall become rational again in time, but at present I thought of having a tent on the lawn and becoming a hermit."
"How is everyone, Aunty?" Meryl asked, as the poor lady seemed again somewhat overcome. "Have you had hosts of visitors while you were all alone?"
"Yes, people have been very kind, and I have not had much time to be dull; and everyone is delighted you are back again. Mr. van Hert has called twice this week to know which day you would arrive."
Meryl's lips contracted a little, but Diana murmured, "Oho!... Dutch Willie! ready to be on the doorstep, of course, in spite of the hullabaloo you've been causing in the country, unrestrained by my caustic criticisms."