“I wonder,” said Lady Gale, “if that is one of the Bassetts of Hindhurst. There was a Captain Bassett——”
Maradick watched the golden curtain of gorse. The scent came to him; bees hummed in the air.
“Well, I like being by the sea, you know. But to be on it; I’ve crossed the Atlantic seven times and been ill every time. There is a stuff called—Oh! I forget—Yansfs. Yes, you can’t pronounce it—You-are-now-secure-from-sea-sickness—it wasn’t any good as far as I was concerned, but then I think you ought to take it before——”
This was his wife.
Mrs. Lester suddenly spoke to him. “You are very silent, Mr. Maradick. Take me for a stroll some time, won’t you? No, not now. I’m lazy, but later.”
She turned away from him before he could reply, and leaned over to her husband. Then he saw that Tony was at his elbow.
“Come down and bathe,” the boy said, “now. No, it isn’t bad for you, really. That’s all tommy-rot. Besides, we mayn’t be able to get away later.” They left the tent together.
“Is it champagne?” he asked.
“What?” asked Tony.
“All this amiability. I was as gruff as a—as my ordinary self—coming, and then suddenly I could have played a penny whistle; why?”