When they had adapted their pace to hers she was little better satisfied; querulous, and as Margaret had pictured her before they met. Luncheon was a miserable meal, or would have been but that nothing could have really damped the spirits of these other two. First Anne found herself in a draught, and then too hot. She never eat eggs, and explained about her digestion, the asparagus tops could not tempt her. A lobster mayonnaise was a fresh offence or disappointment. And she could not disguise her disapproval. After all she prided herself she did know something about housekeeping. “I never give Gabriel eggs except for breakfast.” “I do hope I have not upset your liver.” Margaret’s eyes were full of laughter when she questioned him. “In my young days, in my papa’s house, nor for the matter of that in my uncle’s either, did we ever have lobster salad except for a supper dish.” Gabriel suggested gently that the whole art of eating had altered in England. “Cod and egg sauce,” put in Margaret. “Nectar and ambrosia.” “We never gave either of them,” said poor hungry Anne. Fortunately a spatchcock with mushrooms was produced, and the _mousse_ of _jambon_, although it seemed “odd,” was very light. “Why didn’t I have boiled mutton and rice pudding?” Margaret lamented in an aside to Gabriel when the _omelette au rhum_ was most decisively declined. Cream cheese and gingerbread proved the last straw. Anne admitted it made her feel ill to see the others eat these in combination. “I should like to get back to town as early as possible this afternoon,” she said. “I am sure I don’t know what has come over me, I felt well before I came. The place cannot agree with me. I hope you don’t think me very rude, but if we can have a fly for the first train....” Gabriel was full of consternation and remonstrated with her. Margaret whispered to him it was better so. Nothing was to be gained by detaining her against her will. “We have next week....” “All the weeks,” he whispered back. Margaret offered Stevens’ services, but Anne said she preferred to pack for herself, then she knew just where everything was. The lovers had an hour to themselves whilst she was engaged in this congenial occupation. She reminded Gabriel that he too must put his things together, and he agreed. She thought this made matters safe. “Stevens will do them for you,” Margaret said softly. He did not care how they were jumbled in, or what left behind, so that he secured this precious hour. “Something has upset her, it was not only the lunch,” Margaret said sapiently. He did not wish to enlighten her. “Has she worried you, beloved one?” “Not very much, not as much as she ought to perhaps. I was selfish with her, left her too much alone. I shall know better another time. But at least we had yesterday afternoon, and this morning ... oh! and part of the evening, too. Did I frighten you very much?” she asked him.