"But I am so glad you have come back, Jim!" she said.
Tea--or, rather, the modern substitute for tea, which consistes of most things except tea, from caviare sandwiches to strawberry ice, and whisky-and-soda to iced coffee--had just been brought out when the two returned to the lawn, and Mildred Brereton's guests had fallen upon it with the most refreshingly healthy appetites, and were fluttering about the tables like a school of gulls fishing. Every one, according to the sensible modern plan, foraged privately and privateerly for himself, and there were no rows of patient women agonizing for things to eat and drink, until some man languidly brought them something they did not want, instead of that which they desired. Nor, on the other hand, were there rows of men parading slowly up the female line, like sightseers at an exhibition, with teacups slipping and gliding over the saucers, and buns being jerked from their plates by neighbouring elbows. Instead, every one flocked to the tables, seized what he wanted, and retired into corners to eat it. Anthony Maxwell in particular, who had a wonderful gift for mimicry, was loading up with great care and solidity. Something in his air might have reminded an observer of a steamer coaling for a trip. He had had, in fact, a little conversation with both Mrs. Brereton and Lady Ardingly during the afternoon.
"Yes, dear Mr. Anthony," Mildred had said. "You received my note, did you not? And I am delighted you could come here to-day! Of course, it is a dreadful thing to me to think that my little girl will be taken away so soon. But that is what every mother has to go through. Dear me! it seems only yesterday that she came into my room, a little toddling mite, to announce that when she was grown up she was going to marry the groom, because then she could always live among horses."
"Oh, that'll be all right," said Anthony. "She can have plenty of them."
"How generous of you to say that! You have not--ah--spoken to her yet?"
"No. I've been trying to all the afternoon, but I couldn't get an opportunity."
"Dear Maud! She is--how shall I say it? But, anyhow, it is so characteristic of her."
"She seemed to want to avoid me," said Anthony with a bluntness that rather distressed Mrs. Brereton.