— XXXI —HOME
“It’s good to be in England again,” Netta said to her husband, as they came off the boat on to the Admiralty Pier at Dover. Then she glanced up at him and laughed. “I suppose – at this moment it would be unpatriotic to say anything about the weather.”
They had had a cold crossing. The wind was a piercing north-easter. Yet, in spite of it, there had been more than the suspicion of a fog in the Channel. Now, as they landed amid the coldness and darkness of the late winter afternoon, it seemed as if they could scarcely have a more cheerless reception. Netta was glad to find herself in the compartment which had been reserved for them – in possession of a cup of tea.
“This is better – especially the tea. I am glad to be back again; but” – she looked at him with whimsical eyes –
