‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. Thames, look the door. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. These dinners, from their lavish display of ambiguous hors d’oeuvre to their skimpy ices in dishes of frilled paper, with their Chianti flasks and Parmesan dishes and their polyglot waiters and polyglot clientele, were very funny and bright; and she really liked Ramage, and valued his help and advice. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. She was very excited. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. We're to be given a treat to-night. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter.
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