the spring lamb was overdone, because of the half-hour's delay. However, the Major enjoyed his food with his usual zest, at times approaching ecstasy. And Teresa, as usual, was half-pleased by his enjoyment, and half-amused by its triviality. He seemed to her like a child that had been given a piece of cake; but so did Gerald when he was given anything to drink; so did Basil given a different sort of pleasure. They were all children, she thought all greedy, all absurdly anxious to enjoy themselves. But of the three the Major's pleasure seemed to her the most trivial. How could a man have a passion for food? How could a woman love a man who loved new peas and lobster? … But perhaps the Major had been less devoted to eating in the days when Basil's mother fell in love with him—the splendid red-haired woman with the strong chin and piercing dark eyes, whose portrait, in black velvet and Venetian lace, hung in Basil's study. At any time, though, the Major must have been a child in comparison with her. She had been rich, for those days, and very headstrong, and had run away with the Major against the wish of her relatives; and, when her son was born, she had made a will carefully tying up her property for his benefit, and leaving the Major only a life income. A year later she had died in child-birth. Basil was like her. He had her vigour, her keenness, her
