And they went back to the hotel.
XIV
SMALL BEER
A white cloth, white lilies and scarlet geraniums, red-tiled floor, flax-blue china: the low sun of evening painted their colours afresh; the lily petals glistened and sparkled like frosty snow. All the windows were open, and the soft little wind that stirred the straight muslin curtains filled the empty room with the scent of unseen pinks. Then came in Dolly, carrying a squat rounded jug of brown earthenware smoothly overlaid in silver; the spot of light dancing inside showed that the jug was full. She set it down by the wooden elbow-chair at the table’s foot, put straight a sprig of parsley on the dish of cold meat, glanced at the clock, which said five minutes to seven, and then sat down, half in sunshine and half in shade, with her hands in her lap. For no longer than a minute was she idle; a book lay open on the table, its leaves ruffling and flying over and over, and she pulled it across and began to read at haphazard, as one visiting an old friend. For between those covers her old friends dwelt in an army, and Dolly’s favourite was named Jonis d’Artagnan. Since the age of seven she had read Dumas in his native tongue. Her brow was clear, her breath was even, she only moved to turn her page; tranquillity was Dolly’s dower, bestowed on her by perfect health and peaceful nerves.
At seven o’clock Bernard came in, and Dolly quitted the oak of Fontainebleau to make the tea. “Have you washed your hands?” was her greeting, for Bernard was not as careful about such things as he might have been. Bernard answered: “Yes.”
“Had a good day?”
“Pretty fair.”
Standing before the tray, Dolly put a piece of sugar into her cup, then some milk, then some cream, and, lastly, the clear, auburn, aromatic tea. Authorities agree that this is the only correct method of tea-making, but Dolly kept their laws without knowing them. Bernard tilted up the silver jug and looked inside, and glanced across at his sister. “Have you got another cup?” he inquired. “I guess I’ll have tea to-night.”
“Tea, Bernard?”
“Isn’t there enough to go round?”
“Oh! plenty,” said Dolly. “Aren’t you well?”