And a letter from Philip Gaddesden, delivered at Laggan in the morning, had bitterly reproached Anderson for neglecting them, and leaving him, in particular, to be bored to death by glaciers and tourists.
Early in the afternoon Anderson took his way up the mountain road to Lake Louise.

He found the English travellers established among the pines by the lake-side, Philip half asleep in a hammock strung between two pines, while Delaine was reading to Elizabeth from an article in an archaeological review on "Some Fresh Light on the Cippus of Palestrina." Lady Merton was embroidering; it seemed to Anderson that she was tired or depressed.

Delaine's booming voice, and the frequent Latin passages interspersed with stammering translations of his own, in which he appeared to be interminably tangled, would be enough--the Canadian thought--to account for a subdued demeanour; and there was, moreover, a sudden thunderous heat in the afternoon.
Elizabeth received him a little stiffly, and Philip roused himself from sleep only to complain: "You've been four mortal days without coming near us!" "I had to go away.

I have been to Regina." "On politics ?" asked Delaine.
"Yes.

We had a couple of meetings and a row." "Jolly for you!" grumbled Philip.