He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. Mr. Fruit trees had been brought all the way from India so their product could be laden on the wedding table, fruits with exotic shapes and haunting flavors ended the meal, cleansing the palate. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. Did you see Lord Delafield and Miss Anderson? They packed me in with Colonel Anson and Mrs. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. “Very good,” he said. The lad looked alarmed. You think you will. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts.
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