What she did serve was: grapefruit (without the cherries), cold roast lamb, potatoes (a mush of sogginess), tomatoes (canned, and slightly burned), corn (canned, and very much burned), lettuce (plain); and for dessert, preserved peaches and cake (the latter rather dry and stale).

Such was Billy's dinner.
The grapefruit everybody ate.

The cold lamb too, met with a hearty reception, especially after the potatoes, corn, and tomatoes were served--and tasted.

Outwardly, through it all, Billy was gayety itself.
Inwardly she was burning up with anger and mortification.

And because she was all this, there was, apparently, no limit to her laughter and sparkling repartee as she talked with Calderwell, her guest--the guest who, according to her original plans, was to be shown how happy she and Bertram were, what a good wife she made, and how devoted and _satisfied_ Bertram was in his home.
William, picking at his dinner--as only a hungry man can pick at a dinner that is uneatable--watched Billy with a puzzled, uneasy frown.
Bertram, choking over the few mouthfuls he ate, marked his wife's animated face and Calderwell's absorbed attention, and settled into gloomy silence.
But it could not continue forever.