“And your mother,” said Alfred, “looks better in a sort of glorified nightgown than most women do in their best frocks. And now don’t you think we had better go off to bed? You will have the least as ever was, dear?”
Regina’s face broke into a smile. “The least as ever was,” she replied. So the two went into the dining-room, where, as usual, the refreshment tray was set out upon the table. Julia, with a laughing declaration that she did not want even the least as ever was, went gayly upstairs to her bedroom.
“I shall be very glad to get away,” said Alfred, sitting on the edge of the oaken dining-table and holding his whisky-and-soda up to the light. “I want a change badly this year. We are not as young as we were, Queenie; I’ve taken a lot out of myself lately.”
“You’ve been so busy.”
“Yes, we’ve never had such a good year in business as the last one, but there’s something wrong with Chamberlain.”
“How wrong?”
“I don’t know, I can’t make it out. Whether there’s a screw loose at home, or whether his wife’s health is worrying him, I don’t know.”
“Does she own to being ill?”
“No, never. This morning I quite offended her by telling her that she did not look very well.”
“And they are not going away till September?”