“Only a month, and I shall be in London!” She hurried away. The ladies were waiting for her. The servant stood by the door with wraps. “Isn’t it too bad to keep you all like this? I give you leave to scold me all the way. Why didn’t you get in? Lily, you know what you were saying about unpunctual people; take me for your text next time.” They passed out before her, and she said to the servant: “Mr. Kingcote is writing in the library. Take him at once some biscuits and wine.” They drove off, and Isabel was gay as the sunshine.... With her the month passed quickly enough. Through her solicitor she always obtained suitable rooms for the season, this time they were found in the neighbourhood of Portman Square. For some reason or other she did not to the end apprise Kingcote of the exact day on which she would be in town; after reaching her abode she let two days pass before summoning him to her. But this did not mean coldness, only--shopping. A host of things had as usual to be bought; the rooms had to be adorned in various ways; infinite--oh, infinite calls had to be made, or cards to be left. And one of the first houses she went to was that humble one in Chelsea. In her friendships Isabel was golden. She went in the evening, that all might be at home. Before she could get from the door to the parlour Hilda’s arms were about her, and Rhoda was waiting with a flush of pleasure on her usually pale cheeks. “I don’t think I shall as much as shake hands with _that_ young lady,” Isabel said, designating the elder girl. “Her behaviour to me has been too shameful. Not one scrap of a letter for two months at least! Ah, how good it is to be with you again! Hilda, you are taller than I am; that is most disrespectful. And it seems yesterday that I used to lift you up on my lap.--Well?” So kindly said it was, that one word; a greeting that warmed the heart. It was for Thomas Meres himself, who came into the room. He never made use of speech in meeting Mrs. Clarendon; simply shook hands with her and let his eyes rest a moment upon her face. “And where is Ada?” Ada was summoned, and shortly presented herself. She showed no pleasure, but came forward holding out her hand naturally; she and Isabel did not kiss each other, it had never been their habit. “You, I should say, want a good deal more exercise, Ada. Mr. Meres, you are the worst possible person to take care of a young lady who is too fond of shutting herself up over books.” “Oh, we have been rowing in Battersea Park,” cried Hilda. “Ada rows splendidly. We are going up the river before long, if we can persuade father to come with us. Mrs. Clarendon, do order him to come. Father will do anything that you tell him.” Her father’s yellow face changed colour for an instant; he laughed. “If Mrs. Clarendon will guarantee that the boats won’t capsize,” he said; “that is the only question.”