“You look as if you’d found something,” said Rupert.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Tony. “No soup, thanks, much too hot for soup. What, father? Yes, I know, but I hurried like anything, only a stud burst and then I couldn’t find a sock, and then—Oh! yes, by the way, Fred says he’s awfully sorry, but he’ll be down in a minute. He never noticed how late it was.”
“He never does,” said Mrs. Lester, moving impatiently.
“You can forgive a man anything if he writes ‘To Paradise,’” said Tony. “Hullo, Alice, where on earth have you been all day? I looked for you this morning and you simply weren’t to be found; skulking in your tent, I suppose. But why women should always miss the best part of the day by sticking in their rooms till lunch——”
“I overslept,” she said, laughing. “It was after the picnic and the thunder and everything.” She smiled across the table quite composedly at him, and Mrs. Lester wondered at her self-possession. She had watched her face when he came in, and she knew now beyond all possible doubt.
“Poor thing,” she said to herself, “she is in for a bad time!”
The Maradicks had left the room, the Gales were almost alone; the silver moon played with the branches of the birch trees, the lights from the room flung pools and rivers of gold across the paths, the flowers slept. Sir Richard finished his “poire Melba” and grunted.
“Let’s have our coffee outside,” said Lady Gale. Outside in the old spot by the wall Tony found Maradick.
“I say,” he whispered, “is it safe, do you suppose, to be so happy?”
“Take it while you can,” said Maradick. “But it won’t be all plain sailing, you mustn’t expect that. And look here, Tony, things are going on very fast. I am in a way responsible. I want to know exactly what you intend to do.”