"Already! Already he deserts me, even before the ink is dry on the paper."
She drew the note-book from Mrs. Adair's fingers and dropped it under the tea-table.
"Letters must wait, my child," she declared.
"But Sir George—" protested the girl.
"Sir George must wait, too," continued his wife; "the Foreign Office must wait, the British Empire must wait until you have had your tea."
The girl laughed helplessly. As though assured her fellow countryman would comprehend, she turned to him.
"They're so exactly like what you want them to be," she said—"I mean about their tea!"
Hemingway smiled back with such intimate understanding that Lady Firth glanced up inquiringly.
"Have you met Mrs. Adair already?" she asked.
"No," said Hemingway, "but I have been trying to meet her for thirty years."