"I'm expecting Prosper," said Winifred, "but he's so busy with his
yacht."
Soames stole a glance. No movement in his wife's face! Whether that
fellow were coming or not, she evidently knew all about it. It did not
escape him that Fleur, too, looked at her mother. If Annette didn't
respect his feelings, she might think of Fleur's! The conversation, very
desultory, was syncopated by Jack Cardigan talking about "mid-off." He
cited all the "great mid-offs" from the beginning of time, as if they
had been a definite racial entity in the composition of the British
people. Soames had finished his lobster, and was beginning on
pigeon-pie, when he heard the words, "I'm a small bit late, Mrs.
Dartie," and saw that there was no longer any empty place. That fellow
was sitting between Annette and Imogen. Soames ate steadily on, with an
occasional word to Maud and Winifred. Conversation buzzed around him. He
heard the voice of Profond say:
"I think you're mistaken, Mrs. Forsyde; I'll--I'll bet Miss Forsyde
agrees with me."
"In what?" came Fleur's clear voice across the table.
"I was sayin', young gurls are much the same as they always
were--there's very small difference."
"Do you know so much about them?"
That sharp reply caught the ears of all, and Soames moved uneasily on
his thin green chair.
"Well, I don't know, I think they want their own small way, and I think
they always did."
"Indeed!"
"Oh, but--Prosper," Winifred interjected comfortably, "the girls in the
streets--the girls who've been in munitions, the little flappers in the
shops; their manners now really quite hit you in the eye."
At the word "hit" Jack Cardigan stopped his disquisition; and in the
silence Monsieur Profond said:
"It was inside before, now it's outside; that's all."
"But their morals!" cried Imogen.
"Just as moral as they ever were, Mrs. Cardigan, but they've got more
opportunity."
The saying, so cryptically cynical, received a little laugh from Imogen,
a slight opening of Jack Cardigan's mouth, and a creak from Soames'
chair.
Winifred said: "That's too bad, Prosper."
"What do you say, Mrs. Forsyde; don't you think human nature's always
the same?"
Soames subdued a sudden longing to get up and kick the fellow. He heard
his wife reply:
"Human nature is not the same in England as anywhere else." That was her
confounded mockery!
"Well, I don't know much about this small country"--'No, thank God!'
thought Soames--"but I should say the pot was boilin' under the lid
everywhere. We all want pleasure, and we always did."
Damn the fellow! His cynicism was--was outrageous!
When lunch was over they broke up into couples for the digestive
promenade. Too proud to notice, Soames knew perfectly that Annette and
that fellow had gone prowling round together. Fleur was with Val; she
had chosen him, no doubt, because he knew that boy. He himself had
Winifred for partner. They walked in the bright, circling stream, a
little flushed and sated, for some minutes, till Winifred sighed: