CHAPTER XXXII
Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy strolled after dinner to the bottom
of the lawn and watched the punt which Francis was propelling
turn from the stream into the river.
"Perfectly idyllic," Lady Cynthia sighed.
"We have another punt," her companion suggested.
She shook her head.
"I am one of those unselfish people," she declared, "whose idea
of repose is not only to rest oneself but to see others rest. I
think these two chairs, plenty of cigarettes, and you in your
most gracious and discoursive mood, will fill my soul with
content."
"Your decision relieves my mind," her companion declared, as he
arranged the cushions behind her back. "I rather fancy myself
with a pair of sculls, but a punt-pole never appealed to me. We
will sit here and enjoy the peace. To-morrow night you will find
it all disturbed--music and raucous voices and the stampede of my
poor, frightened horses in the park. This is really a very
gracious silence."
"Are those two really going to marry?" Lady Cynthia asked, moving
her head lazily in the direction of the disappearing punt.
"I imagine so."
"And you? What are you going to do then?"
"I am planning a long cruise. I telegraphed to Southampton to-day.
I am having my yacht provisioned and prepared. I think I shall go
over to South America.
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