Thanks to her he had a lot of trouble getting the Ford into the stable, all of which he liked because of that luncheon-table; and having got it in he still lingered fiddling about with it, examining its engine and wiping its bonnet; and then when he couldn’t do that any longer he went out and lingered in the yard, looking down at the cat with his hands in his pockets.  “I must think,” he kept on saying to himself.

“Lunchee,” said Li Koo, putting his head out of the kitchen window.

“All right,” said Mr. Twist.

He stooped down as though to examine the cat’s ear.  The cat, who didn’t like her ears touched but was prepared to humour him, got out of it by lying down on her back and showing him her beautiful white stomach.  She was a black cat, with a particularly beautiful white stomach, and she had discovered that nobody could see it without wanting to stroke it.  Whenever she found herself in a situation that threatened to become disagreeable she just lay down and showed her stomach.  Human beings in similar predicaments can only show their tact.

“Nice pussy—­nice, nice pussy,” said Mr. Twist aloud, stroking this irresistible object slowly, and forgetting her ear as she had intended he should.

“Lunchee get cold,” said Li Koo, again putting his head out of the kitchen window.  “Mis’ Bilton say, Come in.”

“All right,” said Mr. Twist.

He straightened himself and looked round the yard.  A rake that should have been propped up against the tool-shed with some other gardening tools had fallen down.  He crossed over and picked it up and stood it up carefully again.

Li Koo watched him impassively from the window.

“Mis’ Bilton come out,” he said; and there she was in the yard door.

“Mr. Twist,” she called shrilly, “if you don’t come in right away and have your food before it gets all mushed up with cold I guess you’ll be sorry.”

“All right—­coming,” he called back very loud and cheerfully, striding towards her as one strides who knows there is nothing for it now but courage.  “All right, Mrs. Bilton—­sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.  You shouldn’t have bothered about me—­”

And saying things like this in a loud voice, for to hear himself being loud made him feel more supported, he strode into the house, through the house, and out on to the verandah.

They always lunched on the verandah.  The golden coloured awning was down, and the place was full of a golden shade.  Beyond it blazed the garden.  Beneath it was the flower-adorned table set as usual ready for four, and he went out to it, strung up to finding the Annas at the table, Anna-Felicitas in her usual seat with her back to the garden, her little fair head outlined against the glowing light as he had seen it every day since they had lived in the inn, Anna-Rose opposite, probably volubly and passionately addressing her.

And there was no one.