It was the sort of room that one comes back
to, after long absence, with renewed appreciation.
"I love old mahogany," continued Isabel. "I suppose you've had this a
long, long time."
"No, it's new. To me--I mean. I have some beautiful old French mahogany,
but I don't use it."
Her voice was very low at the end of the sentence. She compressed her
lips tightly and, leaning forward, vigorously poked the fire. A stream
of sparks went up the chimney and quick flames leaped to follow.
"Don't set the house on fire, Aunt Francesca," cautioned Rose. "There's
the dinner gong."
The three went out, Madame Bernard a little ahead and the two younger
women together. Rose sat opposite the head of the table and Isabel was
placed at Madame's right. In a single glance, the guest noted that the
table was perfectly appointed. "Are you making company of me?" she
asked.
"Not at all," smiled Madame. "None the less, there is a clear
distinction between eating and dining and we endeavour to dine."
"If Aunt Francesca were on a desert island," said Rose, "I believe she
would make a grand affair of her solitary dinner, and have her coffee in
the morning before she rolled out of the sand.
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