Lord Monckton laughed easily and sought his monocle. He fumbled about the front of his coat and shirt. "By jove! Lost my glass; wonder I can see anything."
Outside, on the veranda, the two men could see the cluster of women of which Kitty was the most animated flower. Voices carried easily.
"Ah—what do you think of these—ah—Americans?" asked Lord Monckton, as one compatriot to another, leaning toward the desk.
"I think them very kindly, very generous people; at least, those I have met. Have you not found them so?"
"Quite so. I am enjoying myself immensely." Lord Monckton swung about in the chair, his back to the veranda.
Thomas loosened his negligee linen-collar.
"Ah, really!" drifted into the room. Lord Monckton sleepily eying Thomas, only heard the voice; he did not see, as Thomas did, the action and gesture which accompanied the phrase. Kitty had put something into her eye, squinted, and twisted an imaginary something a few inches below her dimpled chin. It was a hoydenish trick, but Kitty had enacted it for Lord Monckton's benefit. The women shouted with laughter. Lord Monckton turned in time to see them troop into the gardens. He turned again to Thomas, to find a grin upon that gentleman's face.
