“Well—what price the hospital ball next week? That won’t be boring, I give you my word. We’re having a party to dinner here, and going on together. If you like to chip in—”
“Terence! Don’t be cruel. We really must not add to his boredom!” cried Delia, smiling, but there was an edge in her smile.
Terence grimaced expressively at Lessing, a grimace which said, “Now you’ve done it! She’s got her knife into you for that remark!”
Kindly Mrs Gordon sensed the strain in the atmosphere, and said quickly:
“Do sing something more to us, Delia darling. You had only begun. A few more of those dear old ballads!”
Delia was like her mother, she never made a fuss, so she rose with a slow, graceful gesture, seated herself in her old place, and sang one strain after another with the utmost good humour. The last of all was that delightful ballad entitled “Phillida flouts me,” and this she delivered with much energy and verve, throwing aside her languid airs to adopt the very attitude of the damsel of the song.
Lessing loved to hear Delia sing, and to-night he laughed with the rest, at the pretty by-play of tossing head and curling lips, but he was not altogether happy in his mind. He remembered the chill of the girl’s voice a few minutes before, as she said: “We mustn’t bore him still more!” and he felt uncomfortable as if it were he himself who was being flouted.
As he walked down the quiet streets on his way home, the words repeated themselves in his brain:
“Oh, what a plague is love! I cannot bear it. Alack and well a-day. Phillida flouts me!”
It was the night after the hospital ball, and Lessing was dining at his favourite restaurant, hoping thereby to counteract a fit of unusual depression. He had not enjoyed that ball; it was borne in upon him that Delia had not intended him to enjoy it. She had deliberately filled her programme before the night, and vouchsafed him only one extra, and during the dancing thereof had stopped three times over to inquire if he were quite sure he was not bored! Delia was angry with him. Delia most pronouncedly was disposed to “flout.” There was an ache at Lessing’s heart which seemed ludicrously out of proportion with the cause.