Marie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't expect him yet," she said in rather a hard voice. "If he likes Windermere, I dare say he will stay for a week or so."
There was a little silence.
"Of course if he should turn up to-morrow, our little outing must be postponed," Feathers said quietly.
Marie did not answer, and he repeated his words.
"Yes, of course," she agreed then.
She looked at him critically. Had he begun to dress better since he 165 came back to London? Or was it just that she was getting used to him, she wondered? She would have been surprised if she had known the time and trouble Feathers spent on his appearance each morning before he came to see her, and how he cursed his ugliness and ungainliness every time he caught sight of himself in a glass.
He turned up in white flannels the following morning, with a light dust coat and a soft felt hat.
Miss Chester refused to come, as Marie had prophesied.
"I detest the river," she said strenuously, "And after your dreadful experience, Marie, I wonder you have the pluck to go near water again."
"I shall be quite safe with Mr. Dakers," Marie answered, "and it's such a lovely day! Do change your mind and come, dear."