“How are you feeling?” Mr. Bradley asked Concordia as he helped her get comfortably settled. He was dressed in high picnicking style today, she thought, noting the jaunty straw boater hat he had just set aside. He had eschewed his usual tweeds for a pair of light linen trousers and coat of blue pin-check cotton. She couldn’t help but notice that the effect was quite stylish.
She was also impressed by his picnic preparations. A great deal of thought was obviously put into it: the comfortable site under a pink-blossomed cherry tree, quiet but not isolated; the well-laid linens and plates, cups already poured to brimming with cool lemonade. Much like a side-show magician producing one wonder after another from a seemingly bottomless carpetbag, Mr. Bradley continued to pull more comest
