lly wasn't disagreeable; and,
poor man, he always looked so ill; perhaps he was in love; perhaps he
had been in love with Rachel--she really shouldn't wonder; or perhaps it
was Evelyn--she was of course very attractive to men. Leaning forward,
she went on with the conversation. She said that she thought that the
reason why parties were so dull was mainly because gentlemen will not
dress: even in London, she stated, it struck her very much how people
don't think it necessary to dress in the evening, and of course if they
don't dress in London they won't dress in the country. It was really
quite a treat at Christmas-time when there were the Hunt balls, and the
gentlemen wore nice red coats, but Arthur didn't care for dancing, so
she supposed that they wouldn't go even to the ball in their little
country town. She didn't think that people who were fond of one sport
often care for another, although her father was an exception. But then
he was an exception in every way--such a gardener, and he knew all about
birds and animals, and of course he was simply adored by all the old
women in the village, and at the same time what he really liked best was
a book. You always knew where to find him if he were wanted; he would be
in his study with a book. Very likely it would be an old, old book, some
fusty old thing that no one else would dream of reading. She used to
tell him that he would have made a first-rate old bookworm if only he
hadn't had a family of six to support, and six children, she added,
charmingly confident of universal sympathy, didn't leave one much time
for being a bookworm.

Still talking about her father, of whom she was very proud, she rose,
for Arthur upon looking at his watch found that it was time they went
back again to the tennis court. The others did not move.

"They're very happy!" said Mrs. Thornbury, looking benignantly after
them. Rachel agreed; they seemed to be so certain of themselves; they
seemed to know exactly what they wanted.

"D'you think they _are_ happy?" Evelyn murmured to Terence in an
undertone, and she hoped that he would say that he did not think them
happy; but, instead, he said that they must go too--go home, for they
were always being late for meals, and Mrs. Ambrose, who was very stern
and particular, didn't like that. Evelyn laid hold of Rachel's skirt and
protested. Why should they go? It was still early, and she had so many
things to say to them. "No," said Terence, "we must go