From Irene’s face the colour had flown.

“I am going for a drive that day with Uncle Swithin,” she answered.

“Uncle Swithin! What does he matter? You can throw him over!”

“I am not in the habit of throwing people over!”

There was a sound of footsteps and June saw Soames standing just behind her.

“Well! if you are all ready,” said Irene, looking from one to the other with a strange smile, “dinner is too!”

June’s Treat

Dinner began in silence; the women facing one another, and the men.

In silence the soup was finished⁠—excellent, if a little thick; and fish was brought. In silence it was handed.

Bosinney ventured: “It’s the first spring day.”

Irene echoed softly: “Yes⁠—the first spring day.”

“Spring!” said June: “there isn’t a breath of air!” No one replied.

The fish was taken away, a fine fresh sole from Dover. And Bilson brought champagne, a bottle swathed around the neck with white.⁠ ⁠…

Soames said: “You’ll find it dry.”

Cutlets were handed, each pink-frilled about the legs. They were refused by June, and silence fell.

Soames said: “You’d better take a cutlet, June; there’s nothing coming.”

But June again refused, so they were borne away. And then Irene asked: “Phil, have you heard my blackbird?”

Bosinney answered: “Rather⁠—he’s got a hunting-song. As I came round I heard him in the Square.”