r into the sitting-room. It was a long
room, coloured yellow. On the wall opposite William some one had painted
a young man, over life-size, with very wobbly legs, offering a wide-eyed
daisy to a young woman who had one very short arm and one very long,
thin one. Over the chairs and sofa there hung strips of black material,
covered with big splashes like broken eggs, and everywhere one looked
there seemed to be an ash-tray full of cigarette ends. William sat down
in one of the arm-chairs. Nowadays, when one felt with one hand down the
sides, it wasn't to come upon a sheep with three legs or a cow that had
lost one horn, or a very fat dove out of the Noah's Ark. One fished
up yet another little paper-covered book of smudged-looking poems... He
thought of the wad of papers in his pocket, but he was too hungry and
tired to read. The door was open; sounds came from the kitchen. The
servants were talking as if they were alone in the house. Suddenly
there came a loud screech of laughter and an equally loud "Sh!" They had
remembered him. William got up and went through the French windows into
the garden, and as he stood there in the shadow he heard the bathers
coming up the sandy road; their voices rang through the quiet.

"I think its up to Moira to use her little arts and wiles."

A tragic moan from Moira.

"We ought to have a gramophone for the weekends that played 'The Maid of
the Mountains.'"

"Oh no! Oh no!" cried Isabel's voice. "That's not fair to William. Be
nice to him, my children! He's only staying until to-morrow evening."

"Leave him to me," cried Bobby Kane. "I'm awfully good at looking after
people."

The gate swung open and shut. William moved on the terrace; they had
seen him. "Hallo, William!" And Bobby Kane, flapping his towel, began to
leap and pirouette on the parched lawn. "Pity you didn't come, William.
The water was divine. And we all went to a little pub afterwards and had
sloe gin."

The others had reached the house. "I say, Isabel," called Bobby, "would
you like me to wear my Nijinsky dress to-night?"

"No," said Isabel, "nobody's going to dress. We're all starving.
William's starving, too. Come along, mes amis, let's begin with
sardines."

"I've found the sardines," said Moira, and she ran into the hall,
holding a box high in the air.

"A Lady with a Box of Sardines," said Dennis gravely.

"Well, William, and how's London?" asked Bill Hunt, drawing the cork out
of a bottle of whisky.