They went by the generic name of the
Tribes of Israel--a gentle reference to their tendency to multiply, and
they ran the whole gamut of canine rank, varying in degree from a pedigree
prize-winner to a mongrel Irish terrier which Lady Susan had picked up in a
half-starved condition in a London side-street and had promptly adopted.
The last-named was probably her favourite, since, as Forrester had
remarked, she had a perennially soft spot in her heart for disreputable
characters.
"My dear," she said, as Ann stooped and kissed her, "I do hope and pray
that your adorable Maria Coombe is at this moment concerning herself with
the making of tea. Much as I love you, I shouldn't have toiled over here in
this appalling heat but for this graceless nephew of mine, who would give
me no peace till I did. So I chose the lesser evil."
Forrester seemed supremely unrepentant, but Ann noticed that when tea
appeared he waited rather charmingly on Lady Susan, anticipating her wants
even down to the particular brand of cigarette she preferred to smoke when,
after swallowing three cups of scaldingly hot tea _a la Russe_, she
pronounced her thirst satisfactorily assuaged. There was a certain
half-humorous, half-tender indulgence in his manner towards her, and Ann
could imagine that he would know very well how to spoil the woman he loved.
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