'I don't want to think about it any more at present.' 'Shall I read to you?' 'Yes, do.' She quietly arranged a pillow behind him and took up a newspaper. He often liked her to read to him; he never listened to a word of it, but it was soothing. She had taken up 'This Morning's Gossip' from _The Daily Mail_, and she began in the soft, low, distinct voice reading from The Rambler: 'Lord Redesdale says that when Lord Haldane's scheme for a Territorial Army was on foot he took it to the--' Aylmer stopped her. 'No--not that' 'Shall I read you a novel?' 'I think I should like to hear some poetry today,' he answered. She had taken up a pretty, tiny little book that lay on his table, called _Lyrists of the Restoration_, and began to read aloud: 5165 '_Phyllis is my only joy, Faithless as the winds or seas, Sometimes cunning, sometimes coy, Yet she never fails to please_.' 'Oh, please, stop,' Aylmer cried. She looked up. 'It tinkles like an old-fashioned musical-box. Try another.' 'What would you like?' she asked, smiling. He took up a French book and passed it to her. 'You'll think I'm very changeable, but I should like this. Read me the beginning of _La-Bos_.' And she began. He listened with his eyes closed, lulled by the curious technique, with its constant repetitions and jewelled style, charmed altogether. She read French fluently enough. 'That's delightful,' he said, but he soon noticed she was stumbling over the words. No, it was not suitable for her to read. He was obstinate, however, and was determined she should read him something. * * * * * So they fell back on _Northanger Abbey_. CHAPTER XX Lady Conroy had arrived home in Carlton House Terrace, complaining of a headache. She remained on the sofa in her sitting-room for about five minutes, during which time she believed she had been dozing. In reality she had been looking for her glasses, dropping her bag and ringing the bell to send a servant for a handkerchief. She was a handsome woman of thirty-eight, with black hair turning a little grey, grey Irish eyes and a wonderfully brilliant complexion. She must have been a remarkably good-looking girl, but now, to her great vexation, she was growing a little too fat. She varied between treatments, which she scarcely began before she forgot them, and utter indifference to her appearance, when she declared she was much happier, letting herself go in loose gowns, and eating everything of which she had deprived herself for a day or two for the sake of her figure. Lady Conroy had often compared herself to the old woman who lived in a shoe, because of her large family. Her friends declared she didn't remember how many children she had. She loved them, but there were certainly weeks when she didn't see the younger ones, for she was constantly absorbed in various different subjects. Besides, she spent most of her life in looking for things.