“We went very slowly on account of the heat,” Howard declared.
“I should say that you had gone very rapidly, from your face,” retorted Mrs. Holt. In relaxing moods she indulged in banter.
Honora stepped into the breach. She would not trust her newly acquired fiance to extricate himself.
“We were both very much worried, Mrs. Holt,” she explained, “because we were late for lunch once before.”
“I suppose I'll have to forgive you, my dear, especially with that colour. I am modern enough to approve of exercise for young girls, and I am sure your Aunt Mary will think Silverdale has done you good when I send you back to her.”
“Oh, I'm sure she will,” said Honora.
In the meantime Mr. Spence was concentrating all of his attention upon a jellied egg. Honora glanced at the Vicomte. He sat very stiff, and his manner of twisting his mustache reminded her of an animal sharpening its claws. It was at this moment that the butler handed her a telegram, which, with Mrs. Holt's permission, she opened and read twice before the meaning of it came to her.
“I hope it is no bad news, Honora,” said Mrs. Holt.
“It's from Peter Erwin,” she replied, still a little dazed. “He's in New York. And he's corning up on the five o'clock train to spend an hour with me.”
“Oh,” said Susan; “I remember his picture on your bureau at Sutcliffe. He had such a good face. And you told me about him.”