He had forgotten her unpunctuality, nor
did she remind him of it.
'How sweet of you to come all that way,' was all she said, and it was a
sufficient reward for the hours in the train and the six hundred minutes
among the nursemaids and perambulators. The elms were in their glory,
the birds were singing briskly, the water sparkled, the sunlit sward
stretched fresh and green--it was the loveliest, coolest moment of the
afternoon. John instinctively turned down a leafy avenue. Nature and
Love! What more could poet ask?
'No, we can't have tea by the Kiosk,' Mrs. Glamorys protested. 'Of course
I love anything that savours of Paris, but it's become so fashionable.
There will be heaps of people who know me. I suppose you've forgotten
it's the height of the season. I know a quiet little place in the High
Street.' She led him, unresisting but bemused, towards the gate, and
into a confectioner's. Conversation languished on the way.
'Tea,' he was about to instruct the pretty attendant.
'Strawberry ices,' Mrs. Glamorys remarked gently. 'And some of those nice
French cakes.'
The ice restored his spirits, it was really delicious, and he had got so
hot and tired, pacing round the pond.
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