"It's going to be dull," she said. "Covent Garden has things all its own way, and therefore it goes to sleep. But in June we shall have Sennier. That is something. Without him it would really not be worth while to take a box. I told Mr. Brett so."
"What did he say?" asked Charmian.
"One Sennier makes a summer."
It was at this moment that Max Elliot came up, looking as he nearly always did, cheerful and ready to be kind.
"I know," he said to Lady Mildred, "you're complaining about the opera. I've just been with the Admiral."
"Hilary knows less about music than even the average Englishman."
"Well, he's been swearing, and even—saving your presence—cursing by Strauss."
"He thinks that places him with the connoisseurs. It's his ambition to prove to the world that one may be an Admiral and yet be quite intelligent, even have what is called taste. He declines to be a sea-dog."
"I think it's only living up to you. But have you really no hope of the opera?"
"Very little—unless Sennier saves the situation."