“Quite,” said Anna-Felicitas.

“That is to say, we had Mr. Twist of course,” said Anna-Rose.

“Once we had got him,” amended Anna-Felicitas.

“Yes, yes,” said the knitting lady, “so you say.  H’m, h’m, h’m.  Once you had got him.  I don’t quite—­”

“Well, I call you a pair of fine high-spirited girls,” said the old gentleman heartily, interrupting in his turn, “and all I can say is I wish I had been on that boat.”

“Here’s Mrs. Ridding,” said the knitting lady quickly, relief in her voice; whereupon he suddenly grew quiet.  “My, Mrs. Ridding,” she added when the lady drew within speaking distance, “you do look as though you needed a rest.”

Mrs. Ridding, the wife of the old gentleman, Mr. Ridding, had been approaching slowly for some time from behind.  She had been out on the verandah since lunch, trying to recover from it.  That was the one drawback to meals, she considered, that they required so much recovering from; and the nicer they were the longer it took.  The meals at the Cosmopolitan were particularly nice, and really all one’s time was taken up getting over them.

She was a lady whose figure seemed to be all meals.  The old gentleman had married her in her youth, when she hadn’t had time to have had so many.  He and she were then the same age, and unfortunately hadn’t gone on being the same age since.  It had wrecked his life this inability of his wife to stay as young and new as himself.  He wanted a young wife, and the older he got in years—­his heart very awkwardly retained its early freshness—­the younger he wanted her; and, instead, the older he got the older his wife got too.  Also the less new.  The old gentleman felt the whole thing was a dreadful mistake.  Why should he have to be married to this old lady?  Never in his life had he wanted to marry old ladies; and he thought it very hard that at an age when he most appreciated bright youth he should be forced to spend his precious years, his crowning years when his mind had attained wisdom while his heart retained freshness, stranded with an old lady of costly habits and inordinate bulk just because years ago he had fallen in love with a chance pretty girl.

He struggled politely out of his chair on seeing her.  The twins, impressed by such venerable abundance, got up too.

“Albert, if you try to move too quick you’ll crick your back again,” said Mrs. Ridding in a monotonous voice, letting herself down carefully and a little breathlessly on to the edge of a chair that didn’t rock, and fanning herself with a small fan she carried on the end of a massive gold chain.  Her fatigued eyes explored the twins while she spoke.

“I can’t get Mr. Ridding to remember that we’re neither of us as young as we were,” she went on, addressing the knitting lady but with her eyes continuing to explore the twins.

They naturally thought she was speaking to them, and Anna-Felicitas said politely, “Really?” and Anna-Rose, feeling she too ought to make some comment, said, “Isn’t that very unusual?”