"Was when Hollburn was cross-examining—" He was not to be put off.
They were Nina, and 'Gina, and Ted, and Conrad welcomed them with both hands, but he caught himself thinking that for any influence the surroundings had upon the conversation he might as well have invited them to Princes'.
He took Ted to see the summer-house when luncheon was over—the summer-house in which they used to have their conferences when they were such chums—and Ted was a disappointment. The summer-house had withstood the years, but the chum had gone. He was affecting interest, and it hurt—it hurt horribly, because he was Ted and they were where they were. He was led to Rose Villa, where Mary Page had lived. The sound of its name had made their hearts ache once, and the same name was on the same gate-post, visible to the same eyes. He passed it by, telling casual falsehoods about the extent of the practice that he hadn't made, and when the post was pointed out, he murmured: "Oh, is it? By Jove!"—maintained a perfunctory pause for ten seconds, and broke it with, "Well, as I was saying——"
Afterwards they all sauntered to the esplanade, and Conrad owned to himself that it was no animated scene. But the sun shone bright, and when there is beautiful weather in Sweetbay it almost compensates for the absence of everything else there.
"Like spring," he observed; "isn't it? Probably there's a fog in town by now, or it's beginning to snow. We're all well out of it."
"Y-e-s," replied Nina. "You don't find it a little depressing seeing so many people in bath-chairs, do you?"
"'So many people?'" Regina was derisive. "I've only seen seven human beings since we arrived."
"Still the seven were all in bath-chairs," said Nina.
"One expects to meet people in bath-chairs at the seaside," Conrad pleaded.
"But not sick people," she said, "here they are conscientious. It's a pretty little band-stand; what time does the band play?"