"Take out the azalea, Bilson.
Miss June can't bear the scent."
"No; let it stay," said June.
Olives from France, with Russian caviare, were placed on little plates.
And Soames remarked:
"Why can't we have the Spanish?"
But no one answered.
The olives were removed.
Lifting her tumbler June demanded:
"Give me some water, please."
Water was given her.
A silver tray was brought, with German plums.
There was a lengthy pause.
In perfect harmony all were eating them.
Bosinney counted up the stones:
"This year—next year—some time."
Irene finished softly:
"Never!
There was such a glorious sunset.
The sky's all ruby still—so beautiful!"
He answered:
"Underneath the dark."
Their eyes had met, and June cried scornfully:
"A London sunset!"
Egyptian cigarettes were handed in a silver box.
Soames, taking one, remarked:
"What time's your play begin?"
No one replied, and Turkish coffee followed in enamelled cups.
Irene, smiling quietly, said:
"If only...."
"Only what?" said June.
"If only it could always be the spring!"
Brandy was handed; it was pale and old.
Soames said:
"Bosinney, better take some brandy."
Bosinney took a glass; they all arose.
"You want a cab?" asked Soames.
June answered:
"No!
My cloaks please, Bilson."
Her cloak was brought.
Irene, from the window, murmured:
"Such a lovely night!
The stars are coming out!"
Soames added:
"Well, I hope you'll both enjoy yourselves."
From the door June answered:
"Thanks.
Come, Phil."
Bosinney cried: