One morning when they were sitting in pyjamas on the terrace overlooking the sea, drinking their tea (without milk or sugar) and eating a rusk prepared by Dr. Hudebert and guaranteed not to be fattening. Frank looked up from her letters.
"Lena Finch is coming down to the Riviera," she said.
"Who's she?" asked Arrow.
"She married a cousin of mine. He died a couple of months ago and she's just recovering from a nervous breakdown. What about asking her to come here for a fortnight?"
"Does she play bridge?" asked Beatrice.
"You bet your life she does," boomed Frank in her deep voice. "And a damned good game too. We should be absolutely independent of outsiders."
"How old is she?" asked Arrow.
"Same age as I am."
"That sounds all right."
It was settled. Frank, with her usual decisiveness, stalked out as soon as she had finished her breakfast to send a wire, and three days later Lena Finch arrived. Frank met her at the station. She was in deep but not obtrusive mourning for the recent death of her husband. Frank had not seen her for two years. She kissed her warmly and took a good look at her.
"You're very thin, darling," she said.
Lena smiled bravely.
"I've been through a good deal lately. I've lost a lot of weight."
Frank sighed, but whether from sympathy with her cousin's loss, or from envy, was not obvious.
Lena was not, however, unduly depressed, and after a quick bath was quite ready to accompany Frank to Eden Roc. Frank introduced the stranger to her two friends and they sat down in what was known as the Monkey House. It was en enclosure covered with glass overlooking the sea, with a bar at the back, and it was crowded with chattering people in bathing costumes, pyjamas or dressing-gowns, who were seated at the tables having drinks. Beatrice's soft heart went out to the lorn widow, and Arrow, seeing that she was pale, quite ordinary to look at and probably forty-eight, was prepared to like her very much. A waiter approached them.
"What will you have, Lena dear?" Frank asked.
"Oh, I don't know, what you all have, a dry Martini or a White Lady."
Arrow and Beatrice gave her a quick look. Everyone knows how fattening cocktails are.
"I daresay you're tired after your journey," said Frank kindly.
She ordered a dry Martini for Lena and a mixed lemon and orange juice for herself and her two friends.
"We find alcohol isn't very good in all this heat," she explained.
"Oh, it never affects me at all," Lena answered airily. "I like cocktails."
Arrow went very slightly pale under her rouge (neither she nor Beatrice ever wet their faces when they bathed and they thought it absurd of Frank, a woman of her size, to pretend she liked diving) but she said nothing. The conversation was gay and easy, they all said the obvious things with gusto, and presently they strolled back to the villa for luncheon.
In each napkin were two little antif at rusks. Lena gave a bright smile as she put them by the side of her plate.
"May I have some bread?" she asked.
The grossest indecency would not have fallen on the ears of those three women with such a shock. Not one of them had eaten bread for ten years. Even Beatrice, greedy as she was, drew the line there. Frank, the good hostess, recovered herself first.
"Of course, darling," she said and turning to the butler asked him to bring some.
"And some butter," said Lena in that pleasant easy way of hers.
There was a moment's embarrassed silence.
"I don't know if there's any in the house," said Frank, "but I'll inquire. There may be some in the kitchen."
"I adore bread and butter, don't you?" said Lena turning to Beatrice.
Beatrice gave a sickly smile and an evasive reply. The butler brought a long crisp roll of French bread. Lena slit it in two and plastered it with the butter which was miraculously produced. A grilled sole was served.
"We eat very simply here," said Frank. "I hope you won't mind."
"Oh, no, I like my food very plain," said Lena as she took some butter and spread it over her fish. "As long as I can have bread and butter and potatoes and cream I'm quite happy."
The three friends exchanged a glance. Frank's great sallow face sagged a little and she looked with distaste at the dry, insipid sole on her plate. Beatrice came to the rescue.
"It's such a bore, we can't get cream here," she said. "It's one of the things one has to do without on the Riviera."
"What a pity," said Lena.
The rest of the luncheon consisted of lamb cutlets, with the fat carefully removed so that Beatrice should not be led astray, and spinach boiled in water, with stewed pears to end up with. Lena tasted her pears and gave the butler a look of inquiry. That resourceful man understood her at once and though powdered sugar had never been served at that table before handed her without a moment's hesitation a bowl of it. She helped herself liberally. The other three pretended not to notice. Coffee was served and Lena took three lumps of sugar in hers.
"You have a very sweet tooth," said Arrow in a tone which she struggled to keep friendly.
"We think saccharine so much more sweetening," said Frank, as she put a tiny tablet of it into her coffee.
"Disgusting stuff," said Lena.
Beatrice's mouth drooped at the corners, and she gave the lump sugar a yearning look.
"Beatrice," boomed Frank sternly.
Beatrice stifled a sigh, and reached for the saccharine.
Frank was relieved when they could sit down to the bridge table. It was plain to her that Arrow and Beatrice were upset. She wanted them to like Lena and she was anxious that Lena should enjoy her fortnight with them. For the first rubber Arrow cut with the newcomer.
"Do you play Vanderbilt or Culbertson?" she asked her.
"I have no conventions," Lena answered in a happy-go-lucky way, "I play by the light of nature."
"I play strict Culbertson," said Arrow acidly.
The three fat women braced themselves to the fray. No conventions indeed! They'd learn her. When it came to bridge even Frank's family feeling was forgotten and she settled down with the same determination as the others to trim the stranger in their midst. But the light of nature served Lena very well. She had a natural gift for the game and great experience. She played with imagination, quickly, boldly, and with assurance. The other players were in too high a class not to realise very soon that Lena knew what she was about, and since they were all thoroughly good-natured, generous women, they were gradually mollified. This was real bridge. They all enjoyed themselves. Arrow and Beatrice began to feel more kindly towards Lena, and Frank, noticing this, heaved a fat sigh of relief. It was going to be a success.
After a couple of hours they parted, Frank and Beatrice to have a round of golf, and Arrow to take a brisk walk with a young Prince Roccamare whose acquaintance she had lately made. He was very sweet and young and good-looking. Lena said she would rest.
They met again just before dinner.
"I hope you've been all right, Lena dear," said Frank. "I was rather conscience-stricken at leaving you with nothing to do all this time."
"Oh, don't apologise. I had a lovely sleep and then I went down to Juan and had a cocktail. And d'you know what I discovered? You'll be so pleased. I found a dear little tea-shop where they've got the most beautiful thick fresh cream. I've ordered half a pint to be sent every day. I thought it would be my little contribution to the household."
Her eyes were shining. She was evidently expecting them to be delighted.
"How very kind of you," said Frank, with a look that sought to quell the indignation that she saw on the faces of her two friends. "But we never eat cream. In this climate it makes one so bilious."