"The fault of the world's inhabitants is that they are stamping out childishness," he said slowly. "They have forgotten to take joy in blue skies and green fields because it costs them nothing to look at them; they are forgetting how to enjoy themselves except in herds. If we have Irish stew at a shooting lunch it must be spoilt by half a dozen expensive flavourings lest my Lady Sue or Madame Sally should say we are so poor that we can only afford mutton and potatoes and onions. Even the children must have tea at Charbonel's and sweets from Buzzard or Fuller, though possibly a packet of butterscotch or home-made toffee would be much more to their taste...." Estelle laughed. "I took the Handelle children out last week," she said. "Their mother asked me to--you remember you took me once there to sing and she's been kind to me--and we went on the top of a 'bus, and had tea at Lyon's, bought flowers at Piccadilly Circus, and oh, they did enjoy themselves, but Lady Eva was quite shocked." "Oh, Estelle, thank you." Esmé came back, radiant in clinging black, the emeralds shining at her bare throat, a big hat framing her face. Hugh Carteret came just then. An old man, deep lines of sorrow drawn on his face, shrinking visibly from any allusion to his loss, suffering from the grief which finds no relief in words. He was cold before Esmé's gush of greeting, looked at her critically and made scant response to her smiles. "It was so good of him to come, they were hidden away down here. And oh, they did want to change and get a house farther west." "Why not then?" Hugh Carteret asked. "The dreadful rents," Esmé answered. "We can't afford it. And we _do_ want to move. The flat is so stuffy, so small." "It seems big enough for two," Colonel Carteret answered, looking hard at Esmé. "Of course, if you had children I could understand." "Oh, we couldn't afford children," she said, flinging a wistful note in her voice. And one not altogether feigned, for as she spoke she remembered the boy who was growing strong in the nursery at Grosvenor Square. "Mrs Gresham," announced the maid. "I'd no idea it was a party." Colonel Carteret looked at his black clothes and spoke reproachfully. "It wasn't. Dollie Gresham was not asked, uncle." Dollie made it plain in a minute. She knew Esmé was at home; she'd asked the maid and she came along. "It's about a bazaar, Esmé. I want someone to help me to get one up for that new little hospital. Denise Blakeney would help Susie Handelle. We'd run it, you and I."