Yet, alas, if her guests had nothing worth eating it was their own fault: they had come too late in the season.
"There's no sense in it," she said.

"I've been expecting you since June, and now we're half through September.

You see, it doesn't look pretty." And with a movement she pointed to the trees on the grass outside, the leaves of which were beginning to turn yellow.

The day was covered, and the distance was hidden by a bluish haze which was fraught with a sweet and melancholy peacefulness.
"Oh, I'm expecting company," she continued.

"We shall be gayer then! The first to come will be two gentlemen whom Georges has invited--Monsieur Fauchery and Monsieur Daguenet; you know them, do you not?
Then we shall have Monsieur de Vandeuvres, who has promised me a visit these five years past.