Sylvia had grown grey looking.
She pushed away her plate quickly, and when Launa with her was leaving the room, Launa said:
“Do not hurry into us. We are so happy together and have so much to say.”
The men talked with indifference. They were anxious to go to the drawing-room. Mr. George at last said impatiently:
“Come on. I am tired of sport.”
With a conversation thereupon had they concealed their anxiety to be gone. Sport is absorbing.
In the drawing-room Sylvia, Paul Harvey, and Mr. George entertained each other.
Launa sat by the window and was talked to by Mr. Wainbridge.
“Paul and Sylvia. Paul and Sylvia. Paul and Sylvia,” sounded with dreadful monotony in her brain. She went to the piano and played “Warum.”
“How you have changed!” said Mr. Wainbridge. “Sometimes I feel as if I did not know you.”