"What are you two talking about?" Lady Leason broke in. "Here's your coffee." She handed the dainty cups in their egg-shell china and filigree stands. "And now, Peter"—she leaned back with a sigh—"I want to hear all about your year in Italy."
"Rather a tall order!—Where shall I start?"
"At the beginning." She looked at him curiously. "Tell us first why you deserted London?"
"To nurse my broken heart, of course. You seem to forget Cydonia."
"My dear Peter!"—she laughed back. "I don't believe that. I knew you were only flirting. She's pretty of course, but oh! so dull—and think of Cadell! What a father-in-law."
The Bishop frowned.
"I assure you they're excellent people, Laura. I've the greatest respect for Mrs. Cadell."
"She's got a good cook," said his cousin wickedly.
McTaggart threw himself into the pause that followed.
"Well—I went the usual round—Rome, Florence, Siena"—he laughed—"and Venice of course—and Naples." Here he paused, checked by some memory, evidently funny, smiling to himself.