There were banks and coppices of flowers at either corner, a huge
palm nodded over silver and glass and priceless china. The softly shaded
electric lights made pools of amber flame on fruit and flowers and
gleaming crystal. Half-a-dozen big footmen went about their work with
noiseless tread.
Henson shook his head playfully at all this show and splendour. His good
humour was of the elephantine order, and belied the drawn anxiety of his
eyes. Luxurious and peaceful as the scene was, there seemed to Chris to
be a touch of electricity in the air, the suggestion of something about
to happen. Littimer glanced at her admiringly. She was dressed in white
satin, and she had in her hair a single diamond star of price.
"Of course Henson pretends to condemn all this kind of thing," Littimer
said. "He would have you believe that when he comes into his own the
plate and wine will be sold for the benefit of the poor, and the seats of
the mighty filled with decayed governesses and antiquated shop-walkers."
"I hope that time may long be deferred," Henson murmured.
"And so do I," Littimer said, drily, "which is one of the disadvantages
of being conservative.
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