fruit's flavour would have bored Evadne stiff. Her soul yearned for the
establishment between us of a link of appreciation. "Yum, yum," said I, and
the link was instantly supplied.

She threw away a peach stone and sighed.

"Let's go."

"Why?" I asked.

"I'm not looking for any more trouble," she replied.

We returned to the lawn and Lady Auriol and Colonel Lackaday. Not a hole
could be picked in the perfect courtesy of their greeting; but it lacked
passionate enthusiasm. Evadne and I sat down, and our exceedingly dull
conversation was soon interrupted by the advent of the church goers.

Towards lunch time Lackaday and I, chance companions, strolled towards the
house.

"What a charming woman," he remarked.

"Lady Verity-Stewart," said I, with a touch of malice--our hostess was the
last woman with whom he had spoken--"is a perfect dear."

"So she is, but I meant Lady Auriol."

"I've known her since she was that high," I said spreading out a measuring
hand. "Her development has been most interesting."