"They don't" he insisted gloomily.
"So what about me?" asked Miss Jennings all smiles.
"I love you" he said smiling back. "That's one reason I love you Liz."
"Well then? We've been over every one of your other friends haven't we? And lunch Sunday's as much as we ever seem to have. So let's talk about me."
"Oh don't mention Sunday darling please, that brings up tomorrow, our all inevitably going back to work. Why it's too despairing" and his voice rose "too too awful" and he flapped both hands "like a dip into the future, every hope gone, endless work work work."
The creature in porter's uniform was close by, hurried across upon these gestures, the headwaiter in attendance.
"What is there Mr Pomfret?" he exclaimed. "Is not everything to your satisfaction?"
Miss Jennings began to laugh helplessly.
"No Pascal, nothing, I'm quite all right. Tell me, who are these other people on all sides?"
The headwaiter stepped back.
"Oh Mr Pomfret sir" he hissed "they are not your people, they are any peoples sir; they come here now like this, we do not know them Mr Pomfret."
"Yes Gaspard, so I'd noticed" and he winked his far eye at Miss Jennings. Upon which Pascal spoke furiously to Gaspard who made off.
"For we do not see you often enough these years" Pascal said to John, bowing low to leave in his turn.
"Thank you, yes that will be all." Mr Pomfret spoke softly to the retreating back. "That man's ageless" he complained to a smiling Liz. He went on "How old would you say he was?"
"Now how about me?" she demanded.
"Oh about thirty-five" he answered his own question.
"This is outrageous" Liz said. She was twenty-nine.
"But it's true" John abruptly insisted. "My daughter keeps a straight face on these occasions, in fact I try Mary all sorts of times and never get a smile out of her."
"Mary's sweet" Miss Jennings announced.
"I know'" her father said. "But she just hasn't that brand of humour or her nerves are over strong. Jane's Philip at twenty is the same. What is it now, darling?"
"Thank God I'm too young to have children that age."
But Mr Pomfret was not, it seemed, to be diverted.
"If I lay in bed about to be amputated" he went on "I wouldn't expect you to laugh of course my dear and naturally Mary couldn't, but I'd lose a certain amount of resistance if I thought our acquaintances weren't roaring their beastly heads off! I'd even forgive you a grin or two" he said smiling at her.
"That's better" she said and grinned back. "You mustn't ever be serious, I can't help but laugh over the solemn way you announce these things."
"Yet you didn't break out into howls when I told about Penelope."
"That's different I mean they make wonderful artificial feet these days." He laughed. "No" she said "I'm serious.
Why it might even get him out of the next war! No, with Penelope, there if you like you did something the young could never bring themselves to do."
"Don't be absurd Liz" he said equably. "You know you would tomorrow, with any little boy dressed up in a top hat and spats for a fancy dress party, in fun of course."
"But not with a girl. I'll bet Jane's Philip wouldn't Think of having a son of twenty and a girl of six!"
"That's nothing, you're to have more than that."
"Oh I'm too old" she muttered. "No one will marry me now."
"Please Liz don't" he protested. "In your heart of hearts you know you will."
"But I'm over twenty-nine, John."
"Well when you're fifty you can still have a boy of nineteen with a girl of six months."
"You are sweet!" She smiled again.
"Then you do think I played Penelope a dirty trick?"
"She's a girl of course" Miss Jennings answered. "She really believed you married her so you see she thinks- how do I know what!"
"I still don't see it Liz."
"Oh I can't tell, I expect she may just be overexcited.
Why don't you ask your Mary?"
"I daren't. She disapproves so."
"Why d'you say that about her? Oh bother children anyway! Except she isn't a child any more of course.
Eighteen if she's a day. It always makes me feel old as the hills when I realize. The time I first knew you she can't have been more than twelve."
"And you look younger than she does every moment." he said smiling into Miss Jennings' eyes.
"Stop it John." She smiled back. "Mary's a very nice girl, just don't forget, and she's going to have all the young men at her heels in droves."
"Yes that's as may be. Certainly she'll have to find someone who can look after her, I shan't be able to manage much about setting up house for her husband. Who could these days? But she does disapprove. They all do."
"I expect they can't help themselves."
"Yes and why, that's what no one will tell me, Liz, when I ask?"
"Perhaps they want to be different from their parents."
"Poor Julia didn't laugh either" he said.
"Well if your wife never did then I suppose Mary doesn't laugh especially so as to be different to you."
"That's rather hard Liz, surely?"
"But you must have been the same with your father or mother once you'd grown up. I know I'd have done anything to be different from both mine."
"Ah children are a mystery! Just wait until you have yours."
"Haven't I already told you? It's too late, I'm too old" she wailed in a bright voice.
He reached across and laid his hand over hers on top of the white tablecloth. Her nails were scarlet. He stroked the bare ring finger.
"Oh I know it's all finished between us where you're concerned but it isn't for me" she said quite cheerfully.
"Good heavens what nonsense yon can talk" he replied in tones as dear as the skin of their two hands and the gold scrolls on the coffee cups. Looking up at her rather frightened nose he saw a reflection, from an empty wine glass and dispatched by the sun in the park, quiver beside her nostril.
"You're adorable" he said.
"If you only knew how I wish I were" she answered smiling.
"Oh look" he cried. " Dick Abbot's having one of his upsets with a waiter."
"Poor Jane, poor Jane" she replied, in a voice she might have used to speak of Christian martyrs, and did not take her eyes from Mr Pomfret's face.
He watched Mrs Weatherby glance about with unconcern, with the especially humble half-smile she used when in the same room as with what must have seemed, to her, inferior strangers, while the waiter stood relaxed beneath Abbot's purpling face. Pascal next came over in controlled haste. He stood beside this waiter, bent a little forward, eyes averted while Abbot's mouth worked and the words came tumbling out too far off for John to catch. Then Mr Pomfret stiffened and even Liz turned her head to see.
Abbot was half out of the chair, was pointing a palsied finger at his Adam's apple, held it there. Jane could hardly ignore this climax and hid a hand as if for reassurance on Pascal's forearm. At last Mr Abbot made gestures with slack wrists as though to brush off flies. Jane smiled again.
Pascal bent forward in a torrent of humility, then chased the waiter off.
Mr Pomfret turned back to his girl friend.
"Poor old Dick! Whenever he gets upset it reminds him of that time at the club when he got stuck with a fishbone. He turned black and-"
"Now that's quite enough John." Miss Jennings stopped him. "In another minute you'll get me laughing and if Jane sees she'll think we're being rude."
"Well all right then" he replied in what seemed to be great good humour. "Now wait a minute, I've paid haven't I? All right then, let's go back to your great bed."
And they left, an elegant couple that attracted much attention. Her sad face was beaming.
"MY DEAR I'm so sorry" Mrs Weatherby said to her companion. Reaching across she laid a hand over his on the white tablecloth. Her nails were scarlet. She gently scratched the skin by his thumbnail. Gold scrolls over white soup plates sparkled clear in the park's sun without.