'
Edith liked Vincy to talk in his favourite Cockney strain. It
contrasted pleasantly with his soft, even voice and _raffine_
appearance.
'Here's Bruce,' she said.
Bruce came in carrying an enormous basket of gilded straw. It was
filled with white heather, violets, lilies, jonquils, gardenias and
mimosa. The handle was trimmed with mauve ribbon.
'Oh, Bruce! How angelic of you!'
'Don't be in such a hurry, dear. These are not from me. They arrived
just at the same time that I did. Brought by a commissionaire. There
was hardly room for it in the lift.'
Edith looked quickly at the card. It bore the name of the minister of
the place with a name like Ruritania.
'What cheek!' exclaimed Bruce, who was really flattered. 'What infernal
impertinence. Upon my word I've more than half a mind to go and tell
him what I think of him--straight from the shoulder. What's the
address?'
'Grosvenor Square.'
'Well, I don't care. I shall go straight to the embassy,' said Bruce.
'No, I sha'n't. I'll send them back and write him a line--tell him that
Englishwomen are not in the habit of accepting presents from
undesirable aliens.... I consider it a great liberty. Aren't I right,
Vincy?'
'Quite. But perhaps he means no harm, Bruce. I daresay it's the custom
in the place with the funny name. You see, you never know, in a place
like that.'
'Then you don't think I ought to take it up?'
'I don't want them.
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