The new day shone about their heads.
IV.
Later, at the Comber's breakfast-table there was confusion. Mrs. Comber was flushed and happy. It was true that this happy release was only for a few weeks, but her “Freddie” was more genial and pleasant than he had been since the days of their honeymoon and her boys were returning that afternoon.
“Freddie—another sausage—Oh! My dear Isabel, here's a bill from that dressmaker again and she sent one only last week; she can't leave one alone. Really, Freddie, another one won't hurt you—and I told her only a month ago that I couldn't pay for that black silk until Easter—well, some marmalade, then, if you won't have another—what train did you say you were going to catch, Isabel? I'm so glad it's a sunny day—you were up quite early weren't you, dear?—and I meant to go in and see what Mrs. Dormer had to say about yesterday afternoon, you know, Mr. Perrin—and now I shan't have a minute because Jane's been so silly about Freddie's shirts and his pyjamas—she missed them when they came from the wash, so that really it—but what did you think of it all, Isabel dear?”
“Of what all?” asked Isabel.
“Why, Mr. Perrin, of course. Poor man, of course he's been queer all this time—anyone could see, but really—I wonder what he 'll do now?”
“I expect that he 'll come back,” said Isabel.
“Come back? Well! But of course Moy-Thompson will have him back if he can. That would keep him quiet. Then he could pretend to the governors that it was simply nerves—which it was mostly, I should think. I'm sure we were all nervy enough for anything. I'm sure I've been most queer all this term. And then his quarreling like that with Archie and everything. Oh! Yes, Moy-Thompson will keep him if he can—under his thumb.”
Freddie Comber had left the room. The two women were alone.
Mrs. Comber was sitting at the table, with her mouth wide open, like a fish, counting on the cloth with her fingers in order to remember the things that she ought to do.