"Well," said Lucy, "let's have tea." They had it, out of little Wedgwood
cups, and Lucy's mood of faint wistfulness passed over and left them
chuckling.

Lucy was a little sad about Felicity, who was now engaged to the young
professor who was conspiring in Poland.

"I knew she would, of course. I told you so long ago. He's quite sure
to get arrested before long, so that settled it. And they're going to
be married directly and go straight out there and plot. He excites the
students, you know; as if students needed exciting by their
professors.... I shall miss Felicity horribly. _'Tis_ too bad."

Peter, to cheer her up, told her what he and Leslie were going to do in
Italy.

"I'll write, of course. Picture post cards, you know. And if ever I've
twopence halfpenny to spare I'll write a real letter; there'll be a lot
to tell you." Peter expected Leslie to be rather funny in Italy, picking
things up.

"A great country, I believe, for picking things up," he had said.
"Particularly for the garden." He had been referring to his country seat.

"I see," said Peter. "You want to Italianise the garden. I'm not quite
sure.... Oh, you might, of course. Iron-work gates, then; and carved
Renaissance oil-tanks, and Venetian well-heads, and such-like. All right;
we'll see what we can steal. But it's rather easy to let an Italianised
garden become florid; you have to be extremely careful with it."