She came out of her dream and took the salmon mayonnaise that the butler had been patiently holding.
“I am glad to think there are no purple patches on my son,” said his mother dryly, dubbing her hostess “a mass of affectation.”
“No, I don’t think a successful barrister would be likely to stray into Wonderland. Documents of the law, blue paper and crude red tape do not harmonize with purple, do they? Claudia, will you remember that when I die I want to be buried in purple silk and the coffin must be lined with a deep shade of crimson. I think I might select the colours when I have time. The wrong crimson would be so fatal to my hair.”
Billie suddenly gave a little howl from his seat on the sofa as though the conversation depressed him. Lady Currey looked her disapproval of him, and Claudia shushed him.
Then she tried to change the subject in deference to the dachshund’s tender feelings.
“Isn’t it delightful, Lady Currey? I had a letter from father’s old friend, the Countess Ravogli, this morning, sending her congratulations and offering us her beautiful villa on the Lake of Como for the honeymoon. I have seen photographs of it, and it is too sweet for words.”
“Does Gilbert like the idea?”
“I haven’t told him yet, but he is sure to like it. It is a sort of fairy castle with an enchanted garden full of wonderful sculpture and strange flowers. There is a terrace of white marble brought from Greece and a fountain of coloured waters. It must be perfectly delicious. I have always dreamed of it as an ideal honeymoon place.”
“One must be very young to look well in such a place,” said her mother. “The Countess tried to get me to visit her, but I declined. White marble is only suitable to the eternal youth of gods and goddesses and it is so chilly! A marble terrace always sounds delightful, but as a matter of fact it generally gives you cold feet and you have to fly in and demand hot-water bottles, and there is nothing romantic about a hot-water bottle.”