Mr Lee-Mittison after a moment’s pause – not diffident, only embarrassed by the richness of his acquaintanceship – veered left towards the Ammerings’ table. But Victor as he approached took up the local paper and began to read the visitors’ list aloud to his parents, who listened attentively. The nearer Mr Lee-Mittison came the louder Victor read and the more eagerly his parents listened. Something about the group of them rather too exclusively domestic offended Mr Lee-Mittison’s social sense vaguely: he turned away. The Ammerings should not see his anemones. He paused for a word with Mrs Hillier, who shook out the fringe of her scarf at him, seeming delighted to talk; and decided to cut out the visit to the Mellarshes who, quite newly married, were, though not talkative, still solicitously watching each other eat.

The Honourable Mrs Pinkerton and her sister-in-law the Honourable Miss Pinkerton had professed to be interested in anemones; they had an extremely fine garden at home which Mr and Mrs Lee-Mittison hoped to visit. But though the two families were on excellent terms, in fact becoming quite intimate, Mr Lee-Mittison still did not like to approach the good ladies at mealtimes. They seemed somehow enclosed as they sat there, moated about by their patent honourableness. Distinction drew a bright line round their woolly white heads, detaching them from the panorama of faces; distinction flowed down with their sleek satin draperies into dark folds. Bowing towards their placid obliviousness, Mr Lee-Mittison passed on.

Sydney’s eyes went over Tessa’s shoulder, fixing the doorway; Tessa’s little smiles at her withered unnoticed.

‘Hasn’t Mrs Kerr come in yet?’ said Tessa at last, her penetration innocently revenging the death of the smiles. ‘How vague she is! I’m afraid she will miss the omelette.’

‘She doesn’t like omelettes,’ said Sydney, looking solemnly at Tessa with her strained dark eyes. She could have screamed when Mr Lee-Mittison, coming up unheard behind her, laid a hand on the back of her chair. Putting down the case on the table he showed them his roots. He liked Tessa, to whom he had talked a great deal, but it was to Sydney that his invitation was to be addressed. ‘My wife and I——’ he began, and glanced again at Tessa regretfully. She was not young enough … ‘ – provisions for a picnic,’ he concluded.

‘When?’ said Sydney abruptly.

He flipped the air with his hand to enjoin patience. ‘I was about to say: we shall be glad if you will join us tomorrow——’

‘Oh, thank you, I can’t. I am sorry, I have an engagement.’

‘O-oh!’ said Tessa, who thought this would have been nice for Sydney. Mr Lee-Mittison stared incredulously.