"Child," he said, "is your gratitude so short-lived? Have you in six slight months forgotten that at Angoulême we were given the very finest dinner that ever we ate? A meal without frills--nine tender courses long? For which we paid the equivalent of rather less than five shillings a head?" "Oh, I remember," said Jill. "That was where they made us use the same knife all through dinner." "And what," demanded Berry, "of that? A conceit--a charming conceit. Thus was the glorious tradition of one course handed down to those that followed after. I tell you, that for me the idea of another 'crowded hour' in Angoulême goes far to ameliorate the unpleasant prospect of erupting into the middle of an English spring." "It's clear," said I, "that you should do a gastronomic tour. Every department of France has its particular dainty. With a reliable list, an almanac, and a motor ambulance, you could do wonders." My brother-in-law groaned. "It wouldn't work," he said miserably. "It wouldn't work. They'd clash. When you were in Picardy, considering some _pâtés de Canards_, you'd get a wire from Savoy saying that the salmon trout were in the pink, and on the way there you'd get another from Gascony to say that in twenty-four hours they wouldn't answer for the flavour of the ortolans." "Talking of gluttony," said Jonah, "if they don't bring lunch pretty soon, we shall be late. It's past one now, and the meeting's the other side of Morlaas. First race, two-fifteen." I rose and strolled to the Club-house, to see the steward.... This day was the sixteenth of April, and Summer was coming in. Under our very eyes, plain, woods and foothills were putting on amain her lovely livery. We had played a full round of golf over a blowing valley we hardly knew. Billowy emerald banks masked the familiar sparkle of the hurrying Gave; the fine brown lace of rising woods had disappeared, and, in its stead, a broad hanging terrace of delicate green stood up against the sky; from being a jolly counterpane, the plain of Billère itself had become a cheerful quilt; as for the foot-hills, they were so monstrously tricked out with fine fresh ruffles and unexpected equipage of greenery, with a strange epaulet upon that shoulder and a brand-new periwig upon that brow, that if high hills but hopped outside the Psalter you would have sworn the snowy Pyrenees had found new equerries. Luncheon was served indoors. Throughout the winter the lawn before the Club-house had made a dining-room. To-day, however, we were glad of the shade. "Does Piers know," said Adèle, "that he's coming home with us?" Jill shook her head. "Not yet. I meant to tell him in my last letter, but I forgot." She turned to Daphne. "You don't think we could be married at once? I'm sure Piers wouldn't mind, and I'd be so much easier. He does want looking after, you know. Fancy his wanting to leave off that belt thing."