“Cod and egg sauce,” put in Margaret.
“Nectar and ambrosia.”
“We never gave either of them,” said poor hungry Anne.
Fortunately a spatchcock with mushrooms was produced, and the mousse of jambon, although it seemed “odd,” was very light.
“Why didn’t I have boiled mutton and rice pudding?” Margaret lamented in an aside to Gabriel when the omelette au rhum was most decisively declined. Cream cheese and gingerbread proved the last straw. Anne admitted it made her feel ill to see the others eat these in combination.
“I should like to get back to town as early as possible this afternoon,” she said. “I am sure I don’t know what has come over me, I felt well before I came. The place cannot agree with me. I hope you don’t think me very rude, but if we can have a fly for the first train....”
Gabriel was full of consternation and remonstrated with her. Margaret whispered to him it was better so. Nothing was to be gained by detaining her against her will.
“We have next week....”
“All the weeks,” he whispered back.
Margaret offered Stevens’ services, but Anne said she preferred to pack for herself, then she knew just where everything was. The lovers had an hour to themselves whilst she was engaged in this congenial occupation. She reminded Gabriel that he too must put his things together, and he agreed. She thought this made matters safe.