But I fancy that you must both have had enough canoeing for the present." "I don't know, Lady Honoria," answered Beatrice.

"One does not often get such weather as last night's, and canoeing is very pleasant.

Every sweet has its salt, you know; or, in other words, one may always be upset." At that moment, Betty, the awkward Welsh serving lass, with a fore-arm about as shapely as the hind leg of an elephant, and a most unpleasing habit of snorting audibly as she moved, shuffled in with the tea-tray.
In her wake came the slim Elizabeth, to whom Lady Honoria was introduced.
After this, conversation flagged for a while, till Lady Honoria, feeling that things were getting a little dull, set the ball rolling again.
"What a pretty view you have of the sea from these windows," she said in her well-trained and monotonously modulated voice.

"I am so glad to have seen it, for, you know, I am going away to-morrow." Beatrice looked up quickly.
"My husband is not going," she went on, as though in answer to an unspoken question.

"I am playing the part of the undutiful wife and running away from him, for exactly three weeks.