be going there. Amy O'Connell said something vague about our going to
Charles Street ... but she may be out of town by now.

TREBELL. Well ... I'll be in anyhow.

FRANCES. [_Going to the window as she buttons her gloves._] Were you on deck
early this morning? It must have been lovely.

TREBELL. No, I turned in before we got out of le Havre. I left Kent on deck
and found him there at six.

FRANCES. I don't think autumn means to come at all this year ... it'll be
winter one morning. September has been like a hive of bees, busy and drowsy.
By the way, Cousin Mary has another baby ... a girl.

TREBELL. [_Indifferent to the information._] That's the fourth.

FRANCES. Fifth. They asked me down for the christening ... but I really
couldn't.

TREBELL. September's the month for Tuscany. The car chose to break down one
morning just as we were starting North again; so we climbed one of the
little hills and sat for a couple of hours, while I composed a fifteenth
century electioneering speech to the citizens of Siena.

FRANCES. [_With a half smile._] Have you a vein of romance for holiday time?

TREBELL. [_Dispersing the suggestion._] Not at all romantic ... nothing but
figures and fiscal questions. That was the hardest commercial civilisation
there has been, though you only think of its art and its murders now.