Nobody had left. Indeed, two more had come—young Mr. Raffinger of the McGrath, and a friend of his, a young woman from the Lambeth School of Art, who had Russianized her painting-blouse by putting a leather belt round it, and who told Amory she had wanted to meet her for such a long time, because she had done some designs for Suffrage Christmas Cards, and hoped Amory wouldn't mind her fearful cheek, but hoped she would look at them, and say exactly what she thought about them, and perhaps give her a tip or two, and, if it wasn't asking too much, introduce her to the Manumission League, or to anybody else who might buy them.... Young Raffinger interrupted the flow of gush and apologetics.
"Oh, don't bother her just yet, Eileen. Let her read her cable first."
Amory turned quickly.—"What do you say? What cable?" she asked.
"There's a cable for you."
It lay on the uncleared tea-table, and everybody seemed to know all about the outside of it at all events. As it was not in the usual place for letters, perhaps it had been passed from hand to hand. Quite unaffectedly, they stood round in a ring while Amory opened it, with all their eyes on her. They most frightfully wanted to know what was in it, but of course it would have been rude to ask outright. So they merely watched, expectantly.
Then, as Amory stood looking at the piece of paper, Walter was almost rude. But in the circumstances everybody forgave him.
"Well?" he said; and then with ready tact he retrieved the solecism. "Hope it's good news, Amory?"
For all that there was just that touch of schadenfreude in his tone that promised that he for one would do his best to bear up if it wasn't.
Amory was a little pale. It was the best of news, and yet she was a little pale. Perhaps she was faint because she had not had any tea.
"Cosimo's coming home," she said.