The supper was an absolute and complete failure; the guests
displayed the forced gaiety and real depression, and constrained
absentmindedness, of genuine and hopeless boredom. Except for Lady
Everard's ceaseless flow of empty prattle the pauses would have been
too obvious. Edith, for whom it was a dreary anti-climax, was rather
silent. Aylmer talked more, and a little more loudly, than usual, and
looked worn. Bruce, whom champagne quickly saddened, became vaguely
reminiscent and communicative about old, dead, forgotten grievances of
the past, while Vincy, who was a little shocked at what he saw (and he
always saw everything), did his very best, just saving the
entertainment from being a too disastrous frost.

'Well! Good luck!' said Aylmer, lifting his glass with sham
conviviality.' I start tomorrow morning by the Orient Express.'

'Hooray!' whispered Vincy primly.

'Doesn't it sound romantic and exciting?' Edith said. 'The two words
together are so delightfully adventurous. Orient--the languid East,
and yet express--quickness, speed. It's a fascinating blend of ideas.'

'Whether it's adventurous or not isn't the question, my dear girl; I
only wish we were going too,' said Bruce, with a sigh; 'but, I never
can get away from my wretched work, to have any fun, like you lucky
chaps, with no responsibilities or troubles! I suppose perhaps we may
take the children to Westgate for Whitsuntide, and that's about all.
Not that there isn't quite a good hotel there, and of course it's all
right for me, because I shall play golf all day and run up to town when
I want to. Still, it's very different from one of these jolly long