"You do have the oddest ways," said Nora, perched at the foot of her cousin's bed; "why do you stay in bed to breakfast ?" "Because I always have--and because it's the proper and reasonable thing to do," said Constance defiantly.

"Your English custom of coming down at half past eight to eat poached eggs and bacon is perfectly detestable." She waved her teaspoon in Nora's face, and Nora reflected--though her sunburnt countenance was still severe--that Connie was never so attractive as when, in the freshest of white dressing-gowns, propped among the lace and silk of her ridiculous pillows and bedspreads, she was toying with the coffee and roll which Annette brought her at eight o'clock, as she had been accustomed to bring it since Connie was a child.

Mrs.Hooper had clearly expressed her disapproval of such habits, but neither Annette nor Connie had paid any attention.

Annette had long since come to an understanding with the servants, and it was she who descended at half past seven, made the coffee herself, and brought up with it the nearest thing to the morning rolls of the Palazzo Barberini which Oxford could provide--with a copy of _The Times_ specially ordered for Lady Constance.

The household itself subsisted on a copy of the _Morning Post_, religiously reserved to Mrs.Hooper after Dr.Hooper had glanced through it--he, of course, saw _The Times_ at the Union.