"
She had been preparing them, poor Trans-atlantic exile, after the
fashion in which grape fruits are prepared upon liners and in the
civilized world of the west. "He's getting us tea spoons," said Belinda,
as they sat down.
"This is realler England than ever," she said. "I've been up an hour.
I found a little path down to the river bank. It's the greenest morning
world and full of wild flowers. Look at these."
"That's lady's smock," said Sir Richmond. "It's not really a flower;
it's a quotation from Shakespeare."
"And there are cowslips!"
"CUCKOO BUDS OF YELLOW HUE. DO PAINT THE MEADOWS WITH DELIGHT. All the
English flowers come out of Shakespeare. I don't know what we did before
his time."
The waiter arrived with the tea spoons for the oranges.
Belinda, having distributed these, resumed her discourse of enthusiasm
for England. She asked a score of questions about Gloucester and
Chepstow, the Severn and the Romans and the Welsh, and did not wait for
the answers. She did not want answers; she talked to keep things going.
Her talk masked a certain constraint that came upon her companions after
the first morning's greetings were over.
Sir Richmond as he had planned upstairs produced two Michelin maps.
"To-day," he said, "we will run back to Bath--from which it will be easy
for you to train to Falmouth.
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