"Very sweet; very sweet and pretty," Mrs. Averil's voice broke in, and he realized that he had allowed himself to drop into a grim and tactless reverie; "I didn't know she had such a sense of humour. Sun-burned noses and 'Stern daughters of the voice of God.' Well done. I didn't think Adrienne would ever look as low as noses. They must be having a delightful tour. I know black redstarts. There was one that used to wake me every morning at four, one summer, in Normandy, with the most foolish, creaking song; just outside my window. Give Barney my love when you write and return my niece's affectionate and admiring homages. Mother Nell. I shouldn't care to be called Mother Nell somehow."
So Mrs. Averil's vexation expressed itself and so she floated Nancy along. But Nancy, long since, had pulled herself together and was able to look at Oldmeadow, while her lashes closed together in her own smile, and to say that she'd almost be willing to lose her nose for the sake of hearing the new warblers. Mrs. Averil opened her "Times" and over marmalade Nancy and Oldmeadow planned the trip that they would take some day, when their ship came in, the three of them, a bird-trip to the French Alps.
Oldmeadow sat beside Adrienne Chadwick and knew that from the other end of the room, where he talked to Mrs. Aldesey, Barney's eyes were on them, though he tried to keep them off. It was the first dinner-party the young couple had given since they had come up to town, for though they were established at Coldbrooks in the communal family life Adrienne seemed to find to her taste, and though Barney had at once immersed himself in country pursuits, they had taken and furnished this large house in Connaught Square and it was, apparently, settled that the winter months were to be spent in London. How that was to be combined with farming at Coldbrooks, or whether Barney intended to take a header into politics and felt a London house, big enough for entertaining, part of the programme, Oldmeadow hadn't an idea, and for the rather sinister reason that he had hardly laid his eyes on Barney since his return from his wedding-journey. Even though asked to tea once or twice, while, established in an hotel, they were finding and furnishing the house, he had never found them alone and either Barney had made no opportunity, or his wife had seen to it that none should be made, for having a _tête-à-tête_ with his old friend.