夜雨聆风If we were all nervy and aimless in the morning, the afternoon was unex-pectedly pleasant. The sun came out, the temperature was cool and fresh.
Mrs Luttrell was brought down and sat on the veranda. She was in excel-lent form – exercising her charm and manner with less gush than usual,and with no latent hint of vinegar in reserve. She chaffed her husband,but gently and with a kind of affection, and he beamed at her. It was reallydelightful to see them on such good terms.
Poirot permitted himself to be wheeled out also, and he was in goodspirits too. I think he liked seeing the Luttrells on such a friendly footingwith each other. The Colonel was looking years younger. His mannerseemed less vacillating, he tugged less at his moustache. He even sugges-ted that there might be some bridge that evening.
‘Daisy here misses her bridge.’
‘Indeed I do,’ said Mrs Luttrell.
Norton suggested it would be tiring for her.
‘I’ll play one rubber,’ said Mrs Luttrell, and added with a twinkle: ‘AndI’ll behave myself and not bite poor George’s head off.’
‘My dear,’ protested her husband, ‘I know I’m a shocking player.’
‘And what of that?’ said Mrs Luttrell. ‘Doesn’t it give me grand pleasurebadgering and bullying you about it?’
