They chattered inconsequently till the lift arrived with its first burden of dishes, and not until the dessert had returned to the depths whence it had mysteriously emerged and after they had made themselves as ridiculous as two picnicking children, did Ferlie get down to the Family news.
She touched very lightly upon her "dancing partner," Clifford Greville-Mainwaring, but the deepened tinge of her face did not escape Cyprian because, by then, he was finding it difficult not to look at her all the time.
"I am incredibly sorry about your father," he said, shying away from an uncomfortable idea. "You all strike me as being wonderfully plucky."
"It's worst for Peter," said Ferlie. And sat silent for a while considering the problem of Peter.
Quite by chance, Cyprian glanced at the clock and remarked in startled tones that it was past eleven.
"Is it?" she asked indifferently.
Her arms were clasped round her knees and her chin resting on them. Sometimes she rocked herself gently backwards and forwards. He smiled to himself, remembering the pose since she was seven.
"I am thinking it is about time I saw you home," he said. "Mrs. Carmichael will be wondering what on earth we are doing."
"No she will not. There is no one at home, Cyprian, and I am not expected back till to-morrow."
"But where have you arranged to spend the night?"