After breakfast next day he bought lamps—several of them—with duplex burners. The roads were a little sloppy, but the sky was blue. He was gratified to reflect that his cousins were doubtless blinking in a black fog; the permanent pleasure of wintering in the country is the thought of how unhappy our friends must be in town. In the forlornest watering-places of the south coast you may notice, on a fine November morning, people folding newspapers briskly, and looking heavenward with a twinkle in their eyes. They are all returning thanks for the sufferings of their friends in London.
The train due at twelve fifteen wound into view at twelve thirty-five.
They were there! Nina, alert, a smile on her thin, shrewd face; Regina, with an air of having travelled under protest; Ted, bowed beneath the weight of the Law Courts.
"So you've come!"
"At last! What a loathsome line!"
"Who's looking after the luggage? Is there a cab to be had?"
"Well, of course. Do you suppose it's a village?"
"How hot it is! You must be smothered in those furs, dear?" This to Nina from 'Gina. 'Gina was always expensively clothed, and badly dressed, but she couldn't vie with the Regent's Park sables. "You must be half dead," she insisted compassionately; "it's as warm as the Riviera."
"We boast of it in our advertisements," said Conrad, "but it isn't. How did you leave Toto and the family?"
He heard that it was a fine day in town too, and secretly resented the fact. The party drove away, another "fly" rumbling with the baggage in their wake.