She was leaning back absently, trifling with a porte-bonheur on her wrist; the blue fire of the diamonds was ablaze. It caught Conrad's glance; from her wrist his gaze travelled to her eyes. They told him, "I'm so bored."
"Yes, indeed," she assented, "you're quite right." It would have been evident to anyone but Bletchworth that she had not heard what he said.
There were fewer people in the garden by this time. In the knowledge that the evening was nearly over, a wave of sentiment stirred Conrad. Even her message of comprehension did nothing to subdue his annoyance. What likelihood remained of a tête-à-tête? The evening from first to last had been wasted in stupidities.
Presently another group went inside, presently there was no one left but themselves. Finally Lady Bletchworth yawned. He wished fervently that she had yawned an hour ago.
"I think it's time we all went to bed," she said. "You've laid down the law quite enough, Charlie. Shall we see you in the morning, Mr. Warrener?"
"Oh yes," he said, "of course. What time is the boat?"
"I don't know—ten something, isn't it? Well, I'll say 'good night.' I wish we were staying on, really I do—I shall have a racking headache to-morrow evening. Are you ready, Joan?"
"Quite," said Mrs. Adaile; "I have a headache now."
He was hopeless until she let him see her slip the porte-bonheur into her chair before she rose.
"Good night, Mr. Warrener."