Rupert looked at the gorse with a languid air. “It simply don’t stand a chance,” he said.
“Talking about gorse,” began Mrs. Lawrence. She was always telling long stories about whose success she was in great doubt. This doubt she imparted to her audience, with the result that her stories always failed.
This one failed completely, but nobody seemed to mind. The highest spirits prevailed, and everyone was on the best of terms with everyone else. Lady Gale was delighted. She had thought that it would go off all right, but not quite so well as this.
Of course it was largely due to Tony. She watched him as he gathered people in, made them laugh, and brought the best out of them. It was a kind of “Open Sesame” that he whispered to everyone, a secret that he shared with them.
But what Lady Gale didn’t recognise was that it was all very much on the surface; nobody really had changed at all. She might have discovered that fact from her own experience had she thought about it. For instance, she didn’t care for Mrs. Maradick any more than before; she liked her, indeed, rather less, but she smiled and laughed and said “Dear Mrs. Maradick.” Everyone felt the same. They would have embraced their dearest enemies; it was in the air.
Mrs. Lester even addressed her husband—
“No, Ted dear, no more meringues. You know it’s bad for you, and you’ll be sorry to-night.”
He looked at her rather gloomily, and then turned and watched the gorse. Maradick suddenly leaned over and spoke to his wife.
“Emmy dear, do you remember that day at Cragholt? It was just like this.”
“Of course I do,” she said, nodding gaily back at him. “There was that funny Captain Bassett. . . . Such a nice man, dear Lady Gale. I wonder if you know him. Captain Godfrey Bassett. . . . Such fun.”