The birds called cheerily from the garden. The whir of the haycutting machines was audible once again; but they were not so near the house, as on the previous day. Clearly the harvest was being gathered in the more distant fields. The sunshine lay pure gold everywhere—
The King found himself noticing these things, and registering them in his mind, as if this was to be the last time that he was to sit there, in Paradise, enjoying them.
The last time?
It might be—
At last the meal ended.
First of all, Judith rose to her feet, and drove the Imps, armed with lumps of sugar, before her, along the verandah, to say good morning to Diana's foal in the paddock.
Then, a minute or two later, Uncle Bond slipped away, unostentatiously, into the house.
The King, and his friend, the Duke, were thus left alone, at the table, facing each other.
A sudden, odd desire to postpone what was coming, whatever was coming, beset the King. Producing his tobacco pouch and pipe, he filled his pipe leisurely.
The Duke betrayed no sign of impatience. A certain large patience, it occurred to the King, was, perhaps, the Duke's most pronounced characteristic.