Miss Adgate threw a gay glance at Rutherford, he returned it with one he meant to make eloquent of his admiration. But Ruth was saying, in that ravishing voice of hers: “Shall we go in?” She swept by him into the low-ceilinged, white-panelled dining-room with an air of dignity in her slim, young figure which Rutherford thought suited it to perfection.
VIII
Poor old Rutherford is fond of recalling that memorable luncheon to this day. Ruth's joyous soul frothed into fun which sounded at times so exactly like Pontycroft that he seemed to be at her elbow. For a reason not hard to seek, to sophisticated minds, General Adgate, too, seemed in high spirits. Rutherford—well—we know what infatuated young men are—excellent company because they laugh at a word, could applaud the dullest saw. Neither Ruth nor General Adgate spoke in saws; by a saw we mean the easy pert phrase, la phrase toute faite which passes so readily for wit in any land. General Adgate was an accomplished raconteur. He could tell a story with an economy of language, a grace worthy the subtlest story-writers; the point, unexpected when it came, brought the house down. Ruth listened—astonished, and led him on. Rutherford's haww-hawws, more appreciative than musical, provided the essential base to the trio.
When lunch was over Ruth ordered coffee to be served in the drawing-room. “You're a daring creature! I've never had the courage to ask Martha to do that,” objected General Adgate.
“But don't you always have coffee after luncheon?” she asked.
“Yes, but I must e'en drink it where it's brought to me, at table.”
“Poor dear! You see the advantage of having a woman by who fears nothing.”
“I see the advantage of having a fair niece to minister to my poor human wants,” gallantly responded the General. “And to make life extremely worth while, hey Rutherford?”
“Miss Adgate is an adorable hostess. If I don't envy you as her uncle, General, it is because I find her perfect as Lady of Barracks Hill,” said Rutherford. He said it with a flush and with the fear upon him that he had said too much.
But Martha just then had entered bearing the coffee; Ruth, indicating the Japanese tea-table, took no notice of his speech. The table, the shining silver Georgian service on its silver tray were placed before her.