Luncheon was over, coffee was brought out on the grass, the party left
the table and sat about in lounge chairs, in the shade or in the
sunshine as they wished. Fraulein departed into the house, Hermione
took up her embroidery, the little Contessa took a book, Miss Bradley
was weaving a basket out of fine grass, and there they all were on the
lawn in the early summer afternoon, working leisurely and spattering
with half-intellectual, deliberate talk.
Suddenly there was the sound of the brakes and the shutting off of a
motor-car.
'There's Salsie!' sang Hermione, in her slow, amusing sing-song. And
laying down her work, she rose slowly, and slowly passed over the lawn,
round the bushes, out of sight.
'Who is it?' asked Gudrun.
'Mr Roddice--Miss Roddice's brother--at least, I suppose it's he,' said
Sir Joshua.
'Salsie, yes, it is her brother,' said the little Contessa, lifting her
head for a moment from her book, and speaking as if to give
information, in her slightly deepened, guttural English.
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