MR. JEROME BROOKE-HOSKYN, AT HIS EASE
"What a pity, my dearest Selina, you are temporarily deprived of the use of your limbs! The river is flowing by—What? Do I expect it to stop? No, of course I don't. Why check my musings? I say, the river is flowing by. Not a living thing is in sight except the Eyesore; and he enhances the beauty of his surroundings by sheer contrast. My smoke does not incommode you, my own?—You can bear it?—Dear soul! Am I the man to deprive you of an innocent pleasure?—"
He might have gone on all the afternoon in this strain, but at this moment Marjolaine came very cautiously out of her house carrying a tray on which was a bottle of claret, a tumbler, and a cake. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was immediately absorbed in this new and inexplicable phenomenon. What could it mean? He watched Marjolaine half-way across the lawn. Then in his softest and most caressing tones he exclaimed, "Why, Miss Marjory—!" Marjolaine gave a little cry and very nearly let all the things drop. She stood aghast.
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn continued, "Is your mother in the Gazebo?"
Before Marjolaine could think of anything to say she had said "No."
"Indeed?—Then why this genteel refection?" Here Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was forced to look over his shoulder into the room and answer the invisible Selina. "Yes, my own. I am speaking to Miss Marjory."
Meanwhile Jack was signalling frantically to Marjolaine, who, on her part, was as frantically motioning him to keep still. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn again leant forward, and Jack vanished only just in time.
Marjolaine explained. "I—I always take a little refreshment at this hour."
It was quite obvious that Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn did not believe her.