"I see that my week's absence has not been very good
for you. I knew it the moment you came in with all that guilty
absent-minded effrontery which I have forbidden. Now, I suppose I
shall have to recommence your subjection. Ring for tea, please. And,
Susanne"--speaking in French and gathering up a fluffy heap of mended
summer waists--"these might as well be sent to the laundress--thank you,
little one; your sewing is always beautiful."
The small maid, blushing with pleasure, left the room, both arms full of
feminine apparel; Selwyn rang for tea, then strolled back to the window,
where he stood with both hands thrust into his coat-pockets, staring out
at the sunset.
A primrose light bathed the city. Below, through the new foliage of the
Park, the little lake reflected it in tints of deeper gold and amber
where children clustered together, sailing toy ships. But there was no
wind; the tiny sails and flags hung motionless, and out and in, among
the craft becalmed, steered a family of wild ducks, the downy yellow
fledglings darting hither and thither in chase of gnats, the mother bird
following in leisurely solicitude.
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